When is the Next Train Coming?
by Alliron
Summary: In a world where you are born with your soulmate's First Words to you on one arm, and your soulmate's Last Words on the other, Gilbert runs into Roderich, a musician wandering Berlin who is clearly lost. After something appears to go terribly wrong, can they possibly find a way for the two of them to be together? (T for occasional swearing. 12/21/17 added a ton of chapters.)
1. Chapter 1

_Nice to meet you._ Gilbert always thought it was so generic of a greeting. How was he supposed to find his soulmate with such a boring statement written on his right wrist. Though, he had to admit it was the more favorable of the two Words. He didn't like to think of the Last Words. They were so… strange. It was a question… not many people had questions on their wrists. And for Last Words they were strangely not-so-final. So, he didn't think about it too much, as he hoped the day he'd hear those Words was far away. He also wasn't bothered by that as much as he was extremely disgruntled that he'd been given such a plain First Words. At least he knew he would have to be introduced by a mutual friend, first, if he analyzed the context. Someone else would have to be there for the greeting to make sense, of course. But, his Words weren't something he really thought about.

* * *

A next-to-silent swear escaped Gilbert's lips as he realized that he had just missed the train. Unfortunately this was the line that would take him home, and walking wasn't an option this late into the night. He wandered into the main hall, taking out his phone and beginning to poke around on social media. He would be here for at least another fifteen minutes.

The train depot was empty, save for one other man who wandered in shortly after Gilbert. He was tall, thin, and his brown hair had been obviously thrown back by the autumn winds. An instrument case - a violin, Gilbert assumed - was hanging from his shoulder and was obviously weighing him down, as his left side was noticeably lower than his right. He couldn't help but notice his thin nose and silver-rimmed glasses for a moment. He supposed he was attractive, but he wasn't in the mood to be bothersome this late into the night - especially not to anyone who looked as helpless as this traveler.

The man was staring at a map in his hands, half-crumpled at the edges from where his fingers had permanently creased it. He adjusted his glasses and sighed, scanning over it again and again before looking up at the sign on the wall that read " _Nollendorfplatz_ " and frowning. He muttered something to himself before looking around and taking a seat on the nearest bench.

Gilbert, playing a game mindlessly on his phone, paused and glanced up. He'd been living in Berlin his whole life and knew what a lost tourist looked like. But at this hour? Perhaps he had been invited to a party and was now hopelessly wandering alone.

If the man wanted to know how to get somewhere, he would answer, but best not to meddle in other people's business. Especially when he was already so tired. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the brick wall, enjoying the serene silence as he waited for the next _zug_. It had been such a long day at work… the night shift never ended soon enough.

He heard the man sigh and the shuffle of paper echoed in the hall for a few moments. He looked over to see the man pocketing the map in his purple trench coat. As Gilbert glanced back down to check the time on his phone, the man spoke up after moments of shared audible stillness.

"Excuse me," the man interrupted the agreed-upon silence. He sniffed slightly, still wearing off the effects of the cold night air. "When is the next train coming?"

Gilbert sighed, feeling it difficult to keep his eyes open. He glanced down at his phone, 2:45. "Soon, hopefully."

"It's been a long time since I've been to Berlin, so I'm a bit lost on the U-Bahn here…" he stood up straight, his gloved hands in his pockets.

He had a distinct southern accent, definitely not from Berlin. Bavaria? Munich's underground was much less complex.

Gilbert shrugged. "I guess to someone who isn't used to Berlin's crazy lines it could get confusing." He rubbed his eyes.

"I just have this tendency to get lost, even in Vienna." The man said, not moving from his upright posture.

"Oh, Vienna," Gilbert laughed. "I was trying to pinpoint the accent. I was guessing Munich, but that didn't feel right. What's a _Wienerblut_ doing up here?"

"I've never been called that before," the other man said, raising his tone in the middle as if to indicate disapproval. "But I'm here for _Musikfest_. One of the afterparties ran a little late."

"Oh, yeah," Gilbert thought aloud. "I forgot that was this week. Should've guessed, with the case and all. Of course an Austrian would come to town for the classical music festival." He shuffled over to the bench and stood in front of the stranger. "Mind if I sit here?"

The man shook his head. "Not at all, clearly we won't be out of here any time soon." He too, rubbed his eyes after he removed his glasses momentarily. "And why is the _Berliner_ out so late?"

Gilbert sighed. "Graveyard shift. I'm ready for this day to end." He took a seat and propped one foot up onto the opposite knee and leaned back.

"I understand that…" The stranger trailed off; the silence between them didn't feel unnatural.

"Oh, I'm Gilbert, by the way." He said, looking over at the man.

"Roderich," he replied, making eye contact with him for a moment.

Gilbert nodded, feeling like that was enough acknowledgement for a casual meeting with a stranger. He didn't feel obligated to shake hands with someone he'd met on the U-Bahn at three in the morning.

"What instrument is that, violin, viola?" He pestered. Roderich seemed vaguely annoyed.

"It's a violin." He answered plainly, bringing it up between his knees now that it had been brought to his attention. "Do you play something?" Gil could tell he was just trying to be polite. His speech was drawn out and… aloof, a bit, Gilbert thought.

"Look, I'm just making casual conversation so I don't fall asleep waiting on the _zug_ , I'm not actually trying to be annoying." He was normally impressed with his own social skills, but this late… or early… he couldn't bring himself to care.

"It's fine, I'm just… long day." The violinist turned at looked at the wall, a large advertisement for Berlin's tourist attractions present just above eye-level. It wasn't exactly fitting the mood as it was covered with smiling people and bright skies above the _Reichstag_.

"Yeah, I feel that…" Gilbert leaned back against the chipping brick wall, feeling the imprints of the individual stones sink into his coat. "I play the cello, but not even close to professional-level or anything."

Roderich shrugged. "It's not for everyone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gilbert leaned forward again, questioning this stranger's arrogance. "I'm plenty good at music."

Roderich rolled his eyes in what he probably thought was a subtle way, Gil decided. "I mean professionally playing. It's a lot of practice that most people simply don't have time for. I know I sometimes don't."

The _Berliner_ frowned. "Oh." He knew he shouldn't be getting into arguments in this state of mind, and here he was. "Sorry, I just-"

"It's fine." Roderich stopped him. "I'm not attacking you. I'm sure you're a fine cellist." Even Roderich, who until now had seemed so put-together, gave in and began messing with the straps on his violin case to give his brain an activity.

"So… what pieces are you playing for _Musikfest_?" Gilbert asked, looking straight out at the opposite wall of the station, beginning to count the bricks as if he hadn't memorized every brick of _Nollendorfplatz_.

"Oh, just things I could pick up quickly. I'm just doing pre-concert solos at the moment, mostly things I've done in the past that I'm familiar with." Roderich began talking faster and faster, clearly excited to be talking about his career and hobby.

Suddenly Gilbert's mind lit up with an idea. "Hey, why don't you play me something. Keep the two of us awake."

Roderich laughed half-heartedly and quietly. "Working for free? I don't think so."

He pulled out a five-euro note from his back pocket. "One song, _Weinerblut._ Don't you have to make Mozart proud or whatever creed it is you

Austrians live by?" He laughed, reaching over to stick it in the pocket of his purple coat.

"Five euros?" the musician scoffed. "For five euros you get to _look_ at the violin."

Gilbert laughed. "Well, that's all the cash I have on me. You Austrians are as expensive as they say." Roderich didn't answer, instead bringing the case up and laying it flat across his lap. He clicked open the clasps and removed the cloth, exposing a beautiful blonde-colored instrument with a golden E-string, a custom-designed scroll, the works. His gloved hands slowly removed it from the bed and gently caressed each curve and jutted edge.

"I'd let you touch it," he began. "But it's not actually mine, it's on loan from a friend and I'm honestly a little nervous to hold it myself."

"It's lovely…" Gilbert mused. "I wish I had an instrument that beautiful… I bought my current cello on a discount." He laughed as he looked over at Roderich, who for the first time in the conversation may have shown a smile.

"It is a beautiful instrument, yes." He slowly returned it to it's nest, covering it carefully and resealing it. "But who cares what the instrument looks like as long as you are making beautiful music?"

Gilbert paused. He supposed that his acquaintance was correct… he'd never thought of it that way. He watched as Roderich returned the cover to the case and zipped it all up into place again and set it down next to his feet. There were a few moments of silence as Roderich stared down at it and Gilbert stared at Roderich, taking much longer to process what he had heard.

He actually kind of liked this stranger, he was quite the pretty face, and had quite the brain in his head. If it weren't such an awkward way to meet someone, perhaps he would've considered asking him on a date.

"Well, where are you headed, Roderich?" Gilbert questioned, trying to keep the two of them awake.

Roderich paused, regrouping his dozing thoughts. "Ah, my hotel is… the Westin Grand Berlin." He nodded, reassuring them both.

Gilbert paused. "The Westin?" He looked up, remembering. "That's… east. You do know that this line we are waiting for goes west, correct?"

Roderich paused. "What...!"

"Yeah, _Wienerblut_ , you must be holding that map upside-down. That goes east, they've got a piece of the wall there, right?"

"Oh, _Sheisse_ ," Roderich groaned. "I'm not even in the right place, as usual."

"No, actually, all you wanna do is go up those steps…" Suddenly his voice disappeared from under him as the train loudly entered the station. Of course, naturally the train would come at the only inconvenient time in the last half an hour.

The doors opened and Gilbert quickly got up and walked backwards towards the door. "Just take the U2 to _Alexanderplatz_ and then take the U5 east, okay?"

Roderich suddenly looked concerned that his only source of reference was disappearing. "Where do I go from there!" He shouted, his Austrian accent making him more difficult to understand over the increased volume.

"Just google it!" Gilbert shouted as he turned to watch his step into the carriage.

"Ah… alright… _danke_ ," Roderich said, looking unsure. And then: "Nice to meet you!" The doors closed less than half a second after he finished speaking.

"You too," Gilbert said to nobody, as Roderich couldn't hear him. He watched his new acquaintance roll up his sleeves to remove his gloves and type something into his phone. Roderich paused, though, looking down at his wrist and turning around suddenly. He looked quite surprised, holding up an arm bent at the elbow into the air as the train disappeared into the tunnels.

"What was that about?" Gilbert wondered aloud. He turned and saw one other woman on the train with him, who had observed the quick-directions fiasco. She looked back at him as Roderich and the _Nollendorfplatz_ station disappeared from sight.

"He looked like he was looking at his Words." She mused.

Gilbert hummed tiredly in return. "Oh, yeah. Guess so." He shrugged and pulled his own hands out of his pockets, looking down at his own Words for his own amusement. Then, he froze. " _Mein Gott_." He said, shaking.

In his moments of sleep-deprivation, he had completely forgotten about the Words he'd been carrying around his whole life…

 _When is the next train coming?_

 _Nice to meet you._


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert scarcely remembered the remainder of the night. He remembered a feeling of helplessness as the woman on the train did her best to comfort a stranger. He remembered watching the lighting change through the gaps in his fingers as they passed under tunnel after tunnel. He remembered being out until four trying to return to _Nollendorfplatz,_ finding Roderich was gone, and returning home in a haze. He remembered Roderich's words echoing in his mind, his southern accent making the words sound more and more foreign.

 _Nice to meet you._

The next morning was nothing short of an out-of-body experience. On a normal day, Gilbert would have been to the gym by eight, but it was nearly five in the evening and he had never left his bed. He was so stagnant… the drive in his mind had vanished. Helplessness, loneliness, seemed more present than ever.

"Why am I so upset?" He said aloud to himself after the second hour of focusing on one of his ceiling fan blades circle above him like a vulture of his fate. "I barely knew him. He was a stranger!" He sat up suddenly, the most active he had been all day.

But he knew… or something inside of him knew, that it was over. He was destined to be alone, his brief encounter was done. He had his chance, and now it was time for the universe to move on to another pair of soulmates.

For a few more moments the man stared straight ahead, glancing down at the laptop that lay next to his bed. _Just Google it!_ He had said to Roderich. What an unfortunate thing to be carrying around on your arm, Gilbert thought. Especially since he - and Roderich too, most likely - were into their late twenties, older than the existence of Google. What had he thought when he was younger and saw some strange word on his arm?

"It doesn't matter anymore." Gilbert thought as he bent over and picked up his computer. He propped it open and waited for the screen to turn on. Immediately he began typing into the search bar: Roderich, _Musikfest_ , violinist.

From the moment he pressed search, he knew that he wouldn't be hard to find. Images and articles of the same man he had met before were popping up from even the largest news websites. News, pop culture, specialized music blogs, Roderich seemed to be quite popular.

"Roderich… Edelstein. Concert pianist and violinist…" He would have laughed, had the circumstances not been so grim. What his grandfather would say if he heard his soulmate was male _and_ Jewish.

Images he found were undeniably the same man. Blown-back brown hair, rectangular glasses on an angled nose. But the images of him of course did not look as disheveled as the confused traveller Gilbert had met. Each picture of him was in a well-tailored suit with an instrument, the same thin-lipped and almost smug smile in each one. One from the previous night, it seems, was a picture of Roderich in his purple coat next to Sir Simon Rattle -a face Gilbert recognized.

It wasn't long before Gilbert located Roderich's personal website. Gilbert scoured through photos and videos of his playing. He wasn't just some street performer, he was… quite good. Tour dates from the previous year were included on one page - with two performances in New York City alongside other major cities in Europe.

Suddenly an idea came to Gilbert that he felt foolish for not considering earlier. He went through the gallery of pictures again, looking for photos where Roderich's wrists were visible. He wasn't sure why, but something told him it would provide some sort of comfort.

This idea would've proven useful had there been more than one of the pictures that met Gilbert's criteria. Only one picture had a wrist visible, one where Roderich's violin was shouldered and his left wrist was just barely out of the shadow. " _Bald, hoffentlich_." Was inscribed in neat cursive.

 _Soon, hopefully._

Though Gilbert wished he could've seen both his First and Last Words, it was reassuring, to see the words in print. They were real, and they were his.

One strange thing, in the gallery, he found, was a set of pictures of young women in a large crowd, holding up a sign that had his name surrounded by hearts. It had been a few years since Gilbert had been to the Philharmonic, but he was fairly certain that those sorts of things hadn't suddenly become proper since his last attendance.

He opened another tab and began searching again, this time for the events of today's _Musikfest_. He knew that it would be through the twenty-first of the month, so surely Roderich had performed something else today.

A video interview was one of the first things to surface, from a gossip website of all places, _DerKlatschTratsch._

"Musician Roderich Edelstein has found his Soulmate!" The title read. Gilbert hesitated to click it, and when he did he could barely contain the anxiousness inside of him as the video loaded.

A young, dark-haired woman smiled into the camera, holding a microphone. Roderich stood behind her, the two of them in front of the _Konzerthaus_. " _Guten morgen_ , viewers, I'm Frida Fischer, and I'm here with Roderich Edelstein, concert pianist, violinist, and composer of hit songs including "How to Dance" and "Feeling Awake" by _Die Nummerierten._ Roderich is-"

Gilbert paused. Roderich had helped write those songs? Yes, they did have piano riffs in them, but they were pop songs. Such a proper classical musician had contributed to the creation of the two most popular songs of the last two years? He remembered something about the caption on the strange photo he found. He had also performed the piano parts live in concert. That must be why he was popular, even in the circles of new music. That explained the sign the girls were holding… _Die Nummerierten_ was one of the most popular boy bands out of Europe this year, there was even a petition started by Austrian youth to have them represent the country at next year's Eurovision.

"-he is here to discuss with us some of the plans he has for the next year after _Musikfest_ is over in just a few days." She turned to him, the wind catching her curly hair and Roderich's as well. "Herr Edelstein, are you planning on writing any more songs for _Die Nummerierten_?"

Roderich smiled politely. "I have a few ideas, but it all depends on what the boys ask of me. I will always look for an excuse to play more piano on stage."

Frida laughed. "Good, good, and what of your more classical upbringing? Any new developments on that?"

Roderich leaned back on his heels slightly. "Ah, yes, I'm actually working on another symphony at the moment. It's almost done, and I already know who I'll be dedicating it to, I just need to find an orchestra to debut it." He smiled a little wider.

The reporter smiled, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, and am I allowed to ask who this symphony will be written for?" She quickly tilted the microphone towards his smiling face.

"Yes, I actually just met my Soulmate, so this one is for him." He held up his left wrist, revealing his First Words for a moment. He spoke so… light-heartedly. As if the impossibility of Gilbert's further existence in his life hadn't hit him yet.

Ms. Fischer looked with wide eyes into the camera. "Oh! Wow, congratulations, and who might this soulmate be?"

Roderich tilted his head slightly, glancing into the camera. "His name is Gilbert, but that's all I know about him. I met him on the _U-Bahn_ last night. I don't have a way to contact him, but hopefully he's figured it out by now and he could email me through my website."

Frida beamed into the camera. "Well, you heard him, ladies and gentlemen. Let's make sure that Gilbert, whoever he is, finds our Roderich Edelstein again! In fact, let's get the word out as fast as possible! If you know a Gilbert or just want to help this mystery man, send out a tweet with "hashtag find Gilbert"! Let's get this boosted!" She even used the English word, hopefully that could result in widespread popularity.

Roderich's traditionally thin smile grew wider. "Ah, thank you, Frida."

Frida glanced back at him before returning to the camera. "Anything for the man who wrote our favorite song! Alright, viewers, until next time! Don't forget to send out "hashtag find Gilbert", _auf weidersehen!_ "

The video ended, as did Gilbert's rope of keeping it together. Tears poured out of his eyes and down onto his hands as he bawled. He buried his face in his arms and his shirt as the inevitable came to his mind. He would never see who he was apparently meant to be with. The reporter and Roderich and the rest of his fans would be hopelessly reblogging and retweeting. Perhaps Roderich didn't want to get their spirits down, and just let them go on with their fun of #findgilbert.

After a long while, Gilbert managed to pull himself together long enough to remember his twitter password. He typed in "#findgilbert" and immediately thousands of results came in. People he didn't know and organizations he did were making a big deal out of the hashtag.

"Whoever this guy is needs to email _DerKlatschTratsch_ and find his man! #findgilbert"

"What a Cinderella story! #findgilbert"

"the guy wrote us the catchiest tune ever, we can repay him by #findgilbert"

Thousands of tweets, all asking the man reading them to step forward. Gilbert had no clue what to think. Who would be contact? Should he email Roderich through his site? Should he call the website?

The entire night ended rather uneventfully, but mentally Gilbert was at a standstill. He felt guilty for something… but he wasn't sure what. Maybe that he had let Roderich down. That he would end up letting down all the people who were trying to have some part in finding him. He would never be able to tell anyone… especially not thousands of people… that he would never see Roderich, let alone talk to him.

His heart sank the further he scrolled down the page, and eventually he closed his computer and covered his face with the blanket. He wasn't a particularly religious person any longer, but part of him wished very much that this was just a nightmare… and that when he woke up the next morning the hashtag, Roderich, and the bottomless pit that his chest had become would all be nothing but a strange, fading memory.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks had gone by, and Gilbert had meticulously kept up with #findgilbert. The hashtag had faded in and out of popularity, resurfacing each time Roderich had done another interview for _Die Nummerierten_ 's newest songs or… whatever. Gilbert had no interest in the boyband.

He noticed, also, that Roderich in each interview - he had been keeping up with him the way a thirteen year old keeps track of her celebrity crush - had grown increasingly… frazzled. Perhaps that wasn't the correct word for a man of such elegance and put-togetherness. But with each interview, his responses became less patient, less polite, until one of the interviews was two minutes of him desperately trying to leave; inching away from the reporter, his eyes shifting around in all directions looking for a distraction. His brown hair swept messily to either side and his neckties never quite pulled together, each time a new video or photo surfaced, he looked less and less like the professional that Gilbert had met on the U-Bahn.

Gilbert had tried to convince himself to be over it. After much coaxing from his brother to leave the house after a week of mourning, he finally began venturing back into the normal routine, trying to keep Roderich out of his mind. It was difficult though, with each day the paparazzi following the poor man around Vienna for the entire world to see.

The Berliner eventually knew that he had to stop relying on his brother to bring him groceries. He decided it was probably time to dare himself to return to the life he had once organized so carefully.

He left his apartment with some caution, taking his bike down a few blocks to the grocery store. As soon as he entered the doors, though, he knew he had made a mistake. A television placed at the front of the store was broadcasting yet another interview from some insignificant gossip source - Roderich and the interviewer exchanging awkward words before the reporter faced the camera and said "Hashtag-find-gilbert" yet again.

It was a slow day for the store, and employees were all gathered around the front, discussing the broadcast.

"I hate this channel."

"Oh come on, it's just a little gossip."

"Yeah, but they need to leave that poor guy alone, he's probably super bummed out. It's been like, what a month? And this Gilbert guy still hasn't come forward."

"I wish they would stop talking about it, honestly, who cares?"

"Well poor Roderich Edelstein cares!"

"I didn't even know this guy existed before this shit came up!"

"It's a real Cinderella story, you should just sit back and let the media tell it."

Gilbert tried to the best of his abilities not to pay attention, but with each word he felt an heavy guilt weigh down his steps and his mind. He decided to make it a short trip, and he took only a basket of the bare essential food items to the register. Well, and a case of his favorite beer. He had a feeling it was going to be another long week.

The cashier did her best to make small talk, as the TV in the background seemed to blare in a 1984-style way: "Hashtag-find-Gilbert" rather than "War is Peace" or anything of the like. Gilbert felt rude for not responding, but he couldn't even repeat her polite questions back to her if he had to.

Then, he made the mistake of giving her his credit card.

"Can I see your ID?" She asked, and he involuntarily pulled it out of his wallet. The drinking age in Germany was sixteen, but he knew he probably looked like a dumb kid who couldn't get his life together in his dirty sweat pants and stained Rammstein T-shirt.

"Oh, your name is Gilbert?" She said with a smile.

He looked up, not understanding. "Yes…" He muttered, just wanting to get back on the bike and go home.

She laughed. "Oh, well, you see the big news story lately is that…"

His eyes widened and he snatched the ID out of her hands. "I know what the story is…!" He took his bags from the counter and stepped backwards to the door. "And I don't give a shit about Roderich or finding Gilbert or… or whatever!" He jolted as his spine hit the door handle and he hastily opened it.

He clumsily straddled his bicycle with his vision blurring from welled tears, skidding down the street. He was frustrated and angry, at himself, at the universe. Maybe even at Roderich. He didn't even bother to put away his groceries when he reached home; he simply dropped them on the ground and collapsed onto the couch face-first.

When Gilbert awoke, the sky was dark and the lights outside his living room window were scattered and bright. He sighed, feeling relieved of the stressful situation at the market. However, the looming bitterness toward everything still hung off of his shoulders. There was also the feeling of guilt of secret-keeping. He hadn't told anyone that he was the Gilbert in #findGilbert… he didn't want anyone to reveal his identity. Not even his brother…

Not that he couldn't trust his younger brother… it was just something that he didn't want to burden him with. Ludwig deserved better than to have to deal with the trials of his of his older brother's trivial life. Especially when he continued inflicting pain upon himself…

Speaking of which, Gilbert had managed to wander to where he left his laptop on the coffee table. He flipped open the screen and saw that he had left Roderich's website up in the browser. When the screen fully loaded, the site automatically refreshed itself. The background image was no longer a picture of Roderich at the piano, but a picture of Roderich standing amongst a crowd of people holding a large banner that read "#findgilbert".

"This is getting ridiculous," Gilbert said aloud. "This can't be real."

A new blog post had appeared as well.

 _Hello all,_ it began casually. _I am Elizabeta, Mr. Edelstein's manager. Due to recent events, Roderich has decided to take some time off. He will pause all work on all new songs for Die Nummerierten as well as his classical endeavors. He under a lot of stress due to "#findgilbert" and would appreciate it if anyone who knows the whereabouts of Gilbert would step forward. Until that happens, he has requested a little time to himself._

 _Thank you for your patience._

 _Elizabeta Hedervary_

Gilbert wanted to roll his eyes. He almost thought Roderich was being a drama queen. But given his lifestyle for the past few weeks, he couldn't exactly say that he himself wasn't being a drama queen.

But in the back of his mind, he felt the well of guilt only deepen. Roderich was going to stop taking income and stop working just to… mourn? To search for Gilbert? What exactly was he doing?

It sounded reasonable when Gilbert did it… stayed home from work, stopped being productive. All just to be sad about the idea of… never seeing his soulmate again. But when it came to Roderich, who actually had a career, who actually meant something to people… He couldn't just… quit? Go on haitus? Could he?

Gilbert put his head in his hands. How ridiculous this whole thing was… He wasn't about to just let his soulmate… however disconnected they may be… throw his life away. That wasn't fair to him. And even though they barely knew each other… Gilbert would feel awful if he was responsible for the downfall of the career of a perfectly good musician.

Should he...

After several long moments, he clicked the "contact" tab at the top of the screen. It brought him to an email screen where he could leave his contact information as well as a message. After much debate, he suddenly began typing, not knowing where this could end or begin.

 _Mr. Edelstein and Ms. Hedervary,_

 _My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I live in Berlin. I apologize about the delay in contact -_ Gilbert felt as if he was writing a letter to his boss or a professor - _however, I would be interested in talking if you still are. If you're interested in proof, I can show you the Words on my arms, as well as the ticket stub from the U-Bahn or a picture of myself._

 _Gilbert Beilschmidt_

He pressed send after a moment's hesitation, and opened his email. He supposed he would just wait until morning, whenever the manager checked on the next shift.

He sighed, placing his laptop on the coffee table again. He felt an odd sense of relief, though he wasn't sure why. He got up to make himself a cup of coffee to feel useful again. However a few moments into starting the coffee pot, he heard an electronic _ding!_ from the living room.

"Surely not…" He said, his heart stopping like a bowling ball hitting a brick wall. He dropped the coffee filter and absent-mindedly dashed in. He stopped when he saw he had a new email at the top of the list, from the website itself no less. Maybe it was just an automated email to let him know they had received it…

He bent down to sit on the floor and clicked on it… and it was certainly not an automated email.

 _Mr. Gilbert Beilschmidt,_

 _We are very happy to hear from you. Please call or facetime this phone number, or contact this user on skype. Please call as soon as possible, whenever is convenient for you._

 _Elizabeta Hedervary_

He considered the consequences for a moment before opening skype and typing in the username. It was Roderich's personal skype account, from the look of it. He clicked "add contact", only to be accepted moments later. The lack of delay in response time was nerve-wracking. Whoever was on the other end was much more eager than he had initially thought. He clicked the "video call" button, unsure of what to expect from the other end.

The other side picked up quite quickly, and he was met with the fair face and pointed nose of a wavy-haired woman on the other side. "Hello, I am Elizabeta Hedervary, are you Gilbert?" She asked politely, her accent thick and foreign.

"Yes… uh…" he fumbled for his wallet out of his back pocket, fishing out his ID. He held it to the camera, watching as it focused in and out on his name and picture. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt… You probably get a lot of prank calls, now that I think about it…"

She smiled politely. "We've done our best to avoid them. Now… sorry to get right to this, I hope this isn't impolite… might I see your First Words?" She sat a fair distance from the computer, it what appeared to be a living room with an old white couch and a gold picture frame in the back ground.

"S...Sure." He said hesitantly, pulling up his sleeve and exposing his wrist, holding that as steadily as he could to the black circle of fate that was the camera on his laptop.

"When is the next train coming?" She read aloud, immediately following by scuffling in the background.

" _Mein Gott,_ " he heard a man's voice say from across the room. A familiar man's voice.

He braced for whatever impact was coming, knowing his fate was coming down to this moment. He could shut the computer, he could click out of the call… but he didn't. Something in his heart was telling him not to.

Roderich's tired face appeared on the screen, his tousled hair falling in all directions on his face and his smudged glasses reflecting Gilbert's shocked face back at him through the screen. "Gilbert…" he said quietly, a small smile growing on his face. "I thought I would never find you…"


	4. Chapter 4

Gilbert stared into the glowing warmth of his laptop screen. For a man who normally had to have the last word on anything, he was rather speechless. Was this allowed? And what decided what was allowed or not? The unspoken rules of the universe? Did the universe, at its moment of creation, leave enough room for technological development? Did some higher being simply not plan on Roderich speaking to him over skype? Could his Last Words be… incorrect?

"Gilbert?" The Austrian accent pierced through his wall of questions.

"Ja… I'm Gilbert…" He said, unintelligibly.

"I am glad I found you." Roderich said, the shakiness fading from his voice. He returned to a more stern look, the one Gilbert was familiar with from that fateful night at Nollendorfplatz.

"I… am glad too…!"

"You know, I actually did have a hard time believing in soul mates for a long time. Probably most of my life until a few years ago." He quickly ran a hand back through his tangled hair, smoothing it over to one side. "You see, my parents were not soulmates, so I didn't think such a thing was necessary…"

Roderich continued on, but Gilbert was lost. Lost in his face, lost in the screen, lost in thought. There was something… wrong. Seriously wrong, and Gilbert's mind wandered to the most severe. Could this be some elaborate hoax? Was this a dream? If this was real… could the universe punish them for breaking its laws?

"What are your Last Words?" Gilbert suddenly asked, interrupting Roderich's sentence. In return he received only a disapproving look.

"I won't tell you, that would be… a little morose, don't you agree?" Roderich raised a thin eyebrow, the reflection of Gilbert staring into the screen burned blue onto his rectangular lenses.

"But… didn't I…" Gilbert trailed off.

"Let's not talk about it." Roderich said firmly. Gilbert decided it was clear that Roderich didn't want to discuss the inevitable… what Gilbert had already discussed with himself and hadn't quite come to terms with.

They sat in a box of silence for a long while, waiting for the other to say something. Roderich simply stared straight ahead at him, while he looked all over Roderich's face for some sort of imperfections in the screen, trying to memorize his whole face as if he had not done so from the hundreds of pictures he had seen of him.

"I like your song." Gilbert finally said, boldly and suddenly.

"Oh?" Roderich said with a slight grin, not bothering to ask which one he was referring to. "Well, I'm glad, thank you."

He looked down at his pale hands on his lap and the worn patch of carpet he was sitting on. Something was very wrong…

"Would you like to meet in person some time?" Roderich asked, clearly trying not to be as interested as he was in continuing the conversation.

"...what?" Gilbert stopped the tracks in his mind, everything coming to a hault as he looked back up at his apparent Soulmate.

"I am coming to Berlin for a few of Die Nummerierten's tour dates, perhaps we could get together," Roderich suggested. "Would you like to meet up somewhere? Preferably some place notable, I do have a tendency to get lost, as I'm sure you know…"

What was wrong with him? Did he think he could just… break the unspoken - but not unwritten - laws of the universe? Gilbert was dumbfounded. He thought he took risks, but here was his soulmate willing to break through universal constants just to grab coffee. And what could he say? No? Denying it didn't seem to work with him, either. Maybe Austrians were different?

"Well…" Gilbert pondered for a moment. Should he just? Agree? He already felt like he was breaking enough rules… though did it "count" if you weren't speaking in person? Could they talk over the phone or send texts or…? "We could meet at the Brandenburg Gate or some tourist area, there are plenty of people to guide you around if you do get lost." He was surprised that he managed to say something… so casual.

"That sounds fine. I will give you my phone number, then." This sounded more like a business deal than a date…

"Uh, alright, I'll just type in mine." Gilbert reached down and punched his phone number into the keys, wondering how this could possibly be real. This was a dream, he thought. This had to be a dream.

"Oh, alright, thank you. Well, it is getting late, so we should both go to sleep," Roderich said, running his hands through his hair yet again. "It was nice to get in contact with you, and I will see you soon."

"Ja, ah… good night." He stumbled as Roderich smiled politely and closed out of the call.

Gilbert was a fairly intelligent individual. He knew plenty on engineering, math, those sorts of things. He wasn't too bad at music, history, or writing. But he had always been on edge with the metaphysical. And he decided that whatever sort of situation was happening between him and Roderich and whatever sorts of soulmate rules there were… was a metaphysical something. And whatever this metaphysical something was… well, it was confusing Gilbert, who was rarely at odds with any sort of problem. This simply seemed to be an unfixable one. Those Words on his arm were meant to be the very last thing he ever heard from him…

Abandoning his coffee, he decided this was a problem for another day, and closed the computer and went to bed.

The wind had grown ever so slightly colder in the weeks since he had met Roderich. The crisp smell of cold air was harsh against his face as he walked further and further down the street towards the rendezvous point they had designated. More and more people - tourists - began to gather the further he went towards the popular sight-seeing spot of the Brandenburg Gate. He hoped that Roderich would be able to find his way.

He spotted the statue on the top of the gate as he ventured further down the crowded street. The entire population of Berlin and its tourists were buzzing with the arrival of Die Nummerierten, partially because of the band's popularity, and partially because the news of Roderich Edelstein going on tour with them was spreading through Germany like the plague had centuries before.

The sun was bright, but provided little heat. Gilbert felt ridiculous wearing sunglasses with his leather coat, but his partial albinism wasn't equipped to deal with days like this. Normally, it wasn't nearly this sunny, and of course he and Roderich had picked the wrong day to… apparently meet in public…

The thought still struck him as odd. He looked up and down the street for signs of a sudden crowd, maybe Roderich would be recognized in public. He pushed his aviators further up the bridge of his nose, his view of the entire world filtered through a dark orange lens.

He wasn't quite sure what to do. He wasn't sure if he would be able to text Roderich, as the number was an international one. He wasn't even sure if Roderich was the kind of person to text at all.

He removed his gloves, exposing his pale hands to the autumn chill, and quickly typed out a message.

"I'm in front of the Brandenburg Hotel."

Normally he wouldn't be so formal, but… might as well. The recipient seemed like to fit the type….

He immediately received a message. "Almost there. Across the street." Gilbert looked up immediately, his heart pounding as he scanned up and down the off-white scene. He momentarily paused the entire world around him as he finally spotted Roderich on the opposite sidewalk, his purple coat bright against the fading colors of the tourists and the orange tint of his glasses. Only the street separated them now…

"Roderich!" He called to him, immediately regretting it. He came to the realization that Roderich's Last Words would simply be his name, and one of them was surely meant to die in this moment. He wasn't ready for death, the thought… and he certainly wasn't prepared to watch the man who was supposed to be his soulmate just… drop dead.

Roderich's pointed profile turned to face him, and their eyes met from across the empty road and crowded sidewalks. Roderich made a small, yet polite smile, and began to walk across the street.

...without looking either way…

Gilbert panicked. This was it. Roderich would be struck by a car and that would be the end of him. He would never live happily ever after. Roderich would never again go on tour or write another song or-

Gilbert darted across the street, running at him suddenly, deciding recklessly that if Roderich was to die right here and right now, then Gilbert had nothing. He would die with him, and be barely knew this man…

He grabbed Roderich across the chest and knocked the two of them down onto the pavement, his sunglasses flying and skidding across the street. Roderich's breath audibly flew from his chest before he landed on his bottom. Gilbert, too, hit the ground on his front side, but his scarf had protected his chin from scraping.

The thing that was missing from Gilbert's equation, though, was the car that was to kill them both. There were no cars in sight. Just crowds of people who were now staring at these two men on the ground…

"Gilbert, what on earth are you doing?" Roderich scolded, his voice surreal. This… couldn't be happening. Gilbert had already heard his Last Words, so how was he hearing this now…!

"You just started crossing! You didn't even look!" Gilbert flipped over, covering his eyes with his forearms. Where were his glasses…

"There aren't any cars on this street…!" He said, shakily getting to his feet again. "This is a pedestrian road…!"

Gilbert paused, not moving his arm from his eyes, but reconsidering everything. What was he doing? Of course there were no cars, he had lived in Berlin his whole life, how did he not remember that there were no cars here… how was he speaking with Roderich… "Can you get me my sunglasses?" Was it too late to pretend that he hadn't done that…

"Your what?" Roderich asked indignantly.

"My sunglasses… I can't… I can't have my eyes in the sun…" He spoke quietly, lowering his voice with each word. He hated drawing attention to his strangeness.

The Austrian scoffed. "Don't change the subject, what exactly inspired you to knock both of us down!"

"I'm an albino, you arschloch, get me my damn sunglasses!" He shouted, trying to stand himself back up with one arm.

Roderich was silent for a long moment before Gilbert felt his fingers touch his. His heart raced for a moment as his sunglasses were passed into his fingers. This entire situation was… cartoonish. Surreal. When he placed the sunglasses on and opened his eyes again, he saw not only crowds of people staring, but Roderich standing less than a foot away from him, staring right at him. His dark eyes broke through the now-scratched orange, full of questions.

"Mommy, that's the man from the television!" A child said from several feet away. Suddenly the already noisy crowd grew louder with chatter. Everyone stirred as they realized just who this strange, pale man had knocked down. Not just another stranger, but a celebrity.

Roderich grabbed Gilbert's arm and pulled him away from the crowd, back down the street from which Gilbert had arrived by. Gilbert's heart raced from every kind of adrenaline rush he could imagine. He was with Roderich, he had just had a sudden burst of self-reflection, and he had expected to die. He stumbled behind the brunette man, knowing that Roderich knew nothing of a map of Berlin.

"Where are we going?" Gilbert asked, trying to regain his footing.

"Away from there." He answered firmly. With each word Gilbert became more on-edge. Each word could be his last, he thought, as apparently his Last Words were incorrect. "If we are to be together, are you planning to publicly embarrass me every time we go out?"

Gilbert again froze. "Excuse me?"

"Are you just going to ask me stupid questions all the time? Or are you hard of hearing?" Roderich was far less polite in-person than he was to the camera. He pulled them behind a large map mounted to the side of a building, hiding the two of them from anyone who may have been following. "Now are you going to explain what the hell you were doing!"

"I just… I thought you were going to die!" Gilbert explained, removing his sunglasses in the safety of the shaded alley. Roderich's eyes met with his, and he took a step back in surprise.

"Your eyes are…"

"Yes, they are red. I'm have partial albinism, and I'll try not to look you in the eye if it bothers you, I have to do that at work, so it's not like it bothers me." He put his sunglasses back on, looking back down towards the sunlit street.

The soulmates stood and looked in opposite directions for a few moments. Gilbert's thoughts were everywhere and nowhere. Apparently everything he knew about soulmates and how the universe worked was completely wrong. Eventually, however, Roderich broke the silence. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

Gilbert turned and looked at him, "You said we are going to be together." He said flatly, knowing his face appeared emotionless with his eyes hidden behind his glasses.

"We are."


	5. Chapter 5

Gilbert and Roderich had been walking up the street in the silence. This wasn't a content silence or an awkward silence, but the silence you share with a pet when you want to talk to them, knowing full well that they cannot understand you. Gilbert had a lot of mixed feelings about Roderich. He knew that he was in the presence of a celebrity, one that he had become what he assumed was a fan of. He also knew that he was not meant to be with him, in a way, as he continually reminded himself. The entire endeavor had a dream-like quality, perhaps because every noise was drowned out by the volume of his thoughts, or because he was literally looking at his world through an orange filter.

Roderich was, now that meeting Gilbert had apparently reconstructed him emotionally, exactly the same as he was that night at _Nollendorfplatz._ Standing constantly upright, his hair was constantly blown sideways and backwards by the wind, even if there was none to do so. His coat wrapped tightly around him, he was very stick-like. He was very skinny and tall, though not as tall as Gilbert, who had a passing thought that he might be malnourished. He was very handsome in the face; his long nose and pointed chin were both chiseled in a way that Gilbert couldn't deny that he didn't think was attractive. Gilbert hadn't paid this much attention to him when they first met, and he would've been embarrassed by his staring had he not been so concerned with the fact that his fate was beyond unclear.

They walked side-by-side, not at a close distance, but not at the distance of strangers. Both men had their hands in their pockets, as they apparently both did not want to talk to each other. Gilbert wondered if the situation was much more awkward than he thought it was.

Finally, he removed his hands from his pockets. "There is a coffee house down this street that's pretty good, not too expensive."

Roderich looked up immediately, incredibly intrigued. "I like coffee." He said simply and hopefully, also removing his hands from his pockets.

"There's a guy from Austria who works there, so maybe he can make some of your special southern coffee for you." He said smugly.

"We take our coffee very seriously in Vienna," Roderich said proudly. "I'm not sure you understand just how much I enjoy coffee."

"Well, then enlighten me, _Weinerblut._ " Gilbert pushed his sunglasses against the bridge of his nose.

Roderich looked over at him with a disapproving look. "Coffee is engrained into our culture. Perhaps like the British and tea, or Americans and their special football. It's a daily routine for me, personally."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "So, like, are there special types of coffee we don't have here?"

"Well, truth be told, I've never actually been to a Kaffeehaus in Germany, so let's see." Roderich lowered his eyebrows, looking ahead with anxious eyes. As they approached the door, Gilbert opened it wide and stepped back. Roderich looked up at him, a bit surprised.

"What, never had a door open for you, princess?" Gilbert laughed.

Roderich did not laugh. "I'm normally the chivalrous one."

"Well, today you're not, so." He motioned Roderich through, who walked in after a moment of annoyed hesitation. Gilbert saw though, how the man's eyes lit up as the smell of coffee beans hit their noses and the golden light and brown wooden trimming filled up the entire building with the antique feeling of tradition.

"This is a Viennese Kaffeehaus." Roderich stated, his mouth actually forming a smile.

Gilbert removed his glasses and covered his eyes momentarily, adjusting them to the dimmer lighting. "It is?"

"Yes, there are newspapers on the tables and the waiter is dressed accordingly, the table tops are marble…" he sounded like he wanted to go on, but he didn't finish, his senses being overwhelmed. "What a pleasant surprise."

Gilbert had never noticed either of those things, partially because he'd never been to Vienna and had no experience with Viennese culture. "Well, I'm glad I brought you here then."

Roderich walked a few steps ahead of him to the nearest table taking everything in. "I suppose I'll get my southern coffee after all," he said pompously, but in a light-hearted way. From what Gilbert had seen of him, this was very different.

The two took a seat, Gilbert feeling suddenly very out-of-place in his hometown. What he hadn't told Roderich, is that he'd never actually been to this particular coffee house, but he had heard that it was "pretty good" from some of his coworkers. Though, in one part of his mind, he was glad that he could ease the tension between them by bringing Roderich to a place that reminded him of something more familiar.

A man in an all-black outfit, save for an apron, came to their table. "What can I get you gentlemen today?"

"Einspänner, bitte." Roderich answered, and the attention turned to Gilbert.

"Ah… same. Please." He said, trying to seem like he knew what he was doing, but also trying to seem like he and Roderich had more in common than a strange meeting in a train station. He had no idea what Einspänner was, but he hoped that it was good.

"Right away, sirs." The waiter left, and Gilbert watched him until he disappeared behind the bar.

Roderich, unlike Gilbert, was absolutely giddy underneath his mature exterior. "What is this place called?" He asked, picking up one of the newspapers with a smile. "Look, _Wiener Zeitung._ " He flipped through it for a moment as Gilbert tried to understand any of his… date's culture.

"This is Cafe Johannes," he said, looking around. It was very beautiful in here, he could see how one could get stuck here for hours if they were not the type to enjoy the outdoors.

Roderich put the newspaper down and folded his hands on the table. "Well, tell me about yourself." The abrupt change in subject threw Gilbert off of his thought process and flung him back into his questioning about the universe's fault.

"...what about me?" He asked stupidly.

Roderich readjusted his glasses. "Well, what do you do for a living, where are you from, are you religious? Those sorts of things. I thought perhaps we should know each other more, as we are designated for each other."

"Designated?" Gilbert scoffed. "It's not an assignment, it's… a soulmate."

"Well, soulmates is a word for it." Roderich nodded his head to one side, as if partially agreeing.

"No, that's… the word for it. Is there a dialect gap we aren't getting across?" Gilbert leaned forward with his arms crossed on the table.

"I believe I told you that my parents were not soulmates," Roderich said. "They did not get along, but they did manage to have a child. So, here I am, whether or not I am supposed to be. And apparently I have a soulmate as well, so you could argue that I am indeed supposed to exist. But what would've happened if my parents had married their soulmates and had children? Would those people have soulmates? And who would be _your_ soulmate?"

Gilbert stared dumbfoundedly at Roderich's apparently causal conversation. "But you said you started believing in soulmates."

"Believing in them is different than accepting them." He said simply. Gilbert scarcely believed what he was hearing. How could his… soulmate… have such a different ideology about the world and how it was meant to be?

"Accept?" Gilbert again asked. "Do you not _accept_ me? What is this, an audition?"

Roderich looked down. "It is not."

"You aren't making any sense!" Gilbert sighed, resting his head in one hand.

"Let's talk about something else." Roderich said as the waiter returned to the table with a tray.

He sat down two glasses of water, and two glass cups with coffee topped with whip cream. As he placed this strange cup in front of Gilbert, he asked, "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Ah, no, thank you." Roderich said, waving him away like a king at his throne of contradictions. The man didn't seem to mind this behavior and returned to another table.

Roderich immediately picked up his coffee and began to drink it, following by spooning up some of the whip cream falling from the side. "I am glad to have found traditional coffee in Berlin, I'll have to tell the boys about this."

"The boys?" Gilbert said, still not touching his glass. He wasn't sure what to expect from this Austrian coffee. Would the tastes conflict? Would it not taste like coffee at all? Would this be full of lies and contradictions as the Austrian across the table was?

"The band." Roderich stated. "Are you not going to drink yours?"

Gilbert looked down at the glass and decided to brave it. He picked it up and took a drink, the strong taste of black coffee sitting on his tongue quite surprising. He put it back down, hoping he didn't look as in shock as he felt… not just about the coffee, but about everything. "It's very good." He said, disgruntled.

"Well, I suppose I'll talk about myself then." Roderich began. Gilbert couldn't believe this, he spoke as if Gilbert had declined to speak about his life, when in reality the entire conversation was sidetracked to Roderich's bizarre beliefs. "I was born and raised in Vienna, have lived their my entire life but I travel quite often. Not just with the band, of course, I like to visit orchestras who have programmed my compositions."

Gilbert frowned. "I've seen your entire website, I've read about you on wikipedia and you've been in the news everywhere, Roderich. It's not like I don't know who you are."

Roderich frowned back at him. "If you've been following the news, then why did you wait for weeks before you contacted me!"

Gilbert froze. The explanation was obvious to him, but what could he say to Roderich, whose ideals on soulmates made no sense and were apparently unexplainable. If he didn't completely accept soulmates or… whatever, then why did he appear so emotionally torn up about not #finding Gilbert? He stared over the man's face, enjoying his annoyingly handsome features from a different angle and realizing they were the same height sitting down. "Because I didn't think I would ever speak to you again."

Roderich scoffed quite forcefully, almost laughing. "And why is that!"

"Because I've already heard my Last Words from you."


	6. Chapter 6

Roderich scoffed. "That is ridiculous."

Gilbert was offended, though he wasn't sure why. He sat back in his chair, narrowing his gaze on Roderich's unfortunately handsome face. "No, it isn't. I heard them. When we met, the last thing you said to me before the doors closed on the train."

Roderich took another drink of his coffee, taking a few moments before answering nonchalantly. "I don't even remember the last thing I said to you that night."

Gilbert exhaled loudly, groaning. "Well, you were much nicer then!" He suddenly pulled the sleeve up his arm, exposing his Last Words to his soulmate, who in turn grabbed his wrist forcefully, recovering them.

"I don't want to see them, Gilbert! Are you so improper as to just expose them to me?" Roderich scolded him, his long fingers unwaveringly tightened on Gilbert's pale skin.

Gilbert ripped his arm from Roderich's grip. "You said 'nice to meet you'. And you weren't much less of an asshole at _Nollendorfplatz_ than you are right now!" He stood up suddenly, his chair creaking against the floor loudly as everyone in the coffee house turned to look at the noise. "You can't tell me I'm wrong, or ridiculous, because that is what has been on my arm for as long as I can remember."

He realized he had raised his voice a little too much, as he turned and saw every stranger staring at him. He looked back at Roderich, who looked a little stunned more than anything, and slammed his chair against the side of the marble tabletop. He bent down, both of his hands planted on the table firmly as he spoke far below the normal level. "And you can't tell me you don't 'accept' me, or whatever, because if you didn't you wouldn't have been so worked up on your damn website about pausing your career to search for me. Or maybe you were just being a goddamn drama queen." Every word was increasingly bitter as he spat every word into Roderich's face.

Roderich looked up at him blankly, picking up his coffee and an eyebrow simultaneously. "Oh, like you are right now."

Gilbert stepped back in shock. He had never felt so insulted in his life. There was no basis for his argument. That was some… fallacy, he knew it. But he couldn't think of anything to retort Roderich's smart-ass mouth, so he reached into his pocket, slammed a two-euro coin down on the table, and left without another word.

As he opened up the door, he threw his sunglasses down over his eyes and shoved his fists into his pockets, suddenly wishing he could pay for the surgery to have his Words removed. He silently cursed at himself for seeing any promise in the man, suddenly hating his damn songs for being so catchy. The Berlin air was as bitter as he was, and the sky was as cold as his heart.

When he returned home, he immediately plugged headphones into his phone and turned up Rammstein as loud as technology would allow.

Gilbert's cell phone rang several days later, just as his brother was walking in the door of their apartment. He had left his phone in the living room, as he was washing the dishes from his last escapade in the kitchen.

"Hey, Lud, would you see who that is?" He called over the noise of the running water hitting the metal pans.

After a moment of no response, Ludwig responded. "It's… Roderich Edelstein? Should I answer it for you?"

Gilbert stopped for a moment, letting his surprise sink in. "Ah… nah. It's fine."

Ludwig entered the kitchen, hanging his black coat over one of the dining chairs, straightening it out. "Who is he?" He asked casually, his voice curious.

"Ah, just this person I met on the U-Bahn." He shrugged, returning to his cleaning project. Their apartment was always spotless as the two of them were very diligent about their cleanliness and organization. Ludwig approached the sink, towering over his older brother.

"Do you want help?"

"Nah, I got it, thanks." He shrugged before tensing at the sound of his ringtone.

"You're popular today," Ludwig said, walking into the living room. "It's Roderich Edelstein again, should I let it go?"

Gilbert muttered a few choice words under his breath before calling back to his brother. "Just ignore it, he'll get the hint."

"Alright, if you're sure." Ludwig returned to the kitchen, placing Gilbert's cell on the counter top next to him. He heard the sound of the fridge opening before his younger brother sighed. "I can't decide what to cook tonight."

"Make whatever you want, I'm not picky." Gilbert said with a smug look that he was thankful Ludwig couldn't see.

He scoffed. "Oh, I'm cooking for you, too?"

Gilbert grinned. "What if I said you were the coolest little brother ever?" His grin quickly reversed, though, as the phone again rang next to him, Roderich's name and number staring him in the face.

"He really wants to talk to you, apparently." Ludwig sighed. "Why don't you want to talk to him?"

Gilbert groaned. "Reasons… will you answer it?"

"Why am I taking responsibility for your annoying friends?" Ludwig whined, running a hand through his blonde hair before walking over to stand by his brother.

"Because… I'm your older brother and I've always had your back, so now it's your turn?" He said with a false smile. He looked up at his brother expectantly before Ludwig rolled his eyes and answered the phone.

" _Hallo_ , Beilschmidt." He said in the most straightforward way he could. Gilbert pretended to not pay attention by continuing to wash dishes, but not making much progress as his mind was too busy worrying about what Roderich would say to him. After a moment, he could feel Ludwig looking down at him. " _Nein_ , this is his brother."

Gilbert looked up at Ludwig and shook his head, maintaining eye contact.

"He's not available right now." He said simply, and Gilbert raised his hand in a thumbs up, dripping water down his arm and onto the floor. Ludwig took a step back in reaction, frowning. "That's his business… And why is it your business?... What sort of scheisse are you spouting! I am hanging up! Good bye!" He said firmly, hanging up and putting the phone back onto the counter. "Gilbert, what the hell kind of friends do you have?"

Gil's heart pounded inside his chest, and he was sure that it was visible through his t-shirt. "What… did he say?"

"He asked where you were, and I said that was your own business. And then he said that it was his business as well, because he had a right to know 'as your soulmate', so I decided to hang up on that. I know that I have no say in who you're friends with, but I would avoid him, Gilbert."

"I'm trying." Gilbert mumbled.

"Doesn't he think I would know who your soulmate is? He sounded foreign. Swiss?"

"Austrian."

"Well, wherever he's from, he's not a very creative liar." He returned to the fridge, rummaging around.

"Yeah…" Gilbert said as he shut off the water and left the pots out to dry.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig turned around and asked curiously. "You got quiet."

"Fine." Gilbert shrugged, hoping he was better at lying than he thought he was. He looked up at Ludwig blankly, praying that he didn't look as guilty as he felt.

Ludwig, too, was blank and silent, for a moment. "Gilbert, who is that?"

He pocketed his phone and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "It's my soulmate. But I was nothing to do with him."

His brother looked shocked, his eyes wide. "A man?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I didn't pick."

"Edelstein. A _Jewish_ man?" He continued, rolling his eyes.

Gilbert laughed, half-heartedly. Then, the two of them said at the same time: "What would grandfather say!" They shared a smile before Ludwig looked down.

"What did he do to royally piss you off?"

"He's just an asshole." Gilbert said, returning to normal. He opened an overhead cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal, pouring some into his hand and dumping it into his mouth. "A rich-and-famous asshole that I don't want to deal with."

Ludwig grimaced at his brother's behavior and folded his arms over his chest. "You've always been a hopeless romantic though. You'll have to talk to him eventually."

Gilbert laughed. "I am not! And I can do whatever I want!"

"You are too, don't tell me otherwise. You've dreamed of your damn soulmate for your whole life and now you have them and you're throwing it away."

"You sound like mother." Gilbert laughed.

"That doesn't invalidate my argument." Ludwig countered quickly, and as soon as he did Gilbert stomped his foot childishly.

"Dammit. That's what I should've said to him! Dammit. Ugh." He remembered his response to Roderich's cold retort, and pulled on his white hair in frustration.

"What are you talking about?" Ludwig asked, just as frustrated.

"It doesn't matter! I don't have to talk to him if I don't want to!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes for the hundredth time. "Yeah, well. Sure. Okay. Do whatever you want." He left the kitchen, calling back a few feet later. "I'll cook later."

"Yeah, okay." Gilbert responded, glad that it was dropped.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket, realizing that Ludwig had silenced the phone and he had missed another call and a voicemail from Roderich. He unlocked his phone and stared at the notification for a while, debating whether or not he should listen to it.

Finally, after some thought, Gilbert sighed. "Fuck it." He said, and pushed play, holding the phone to his ear.


	7. Chapter 7

"You have one new voicemail, from Roderich Edelstein at 5:45pm." Gilbert's phone said to him before continuing.

"Gilbert, hello, this is Roderich. I think we should forget whatever happened earlier, and perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. Let's forget about the Words. Call me back if you'd like to meet up tomorrow and we can retry our conversation."

Gilbert audibly scoffed, removing the phone from his ear and pressing delete. "Whatever. I'm done," he said to nobody, and left his phone on the kitchen counter as he walked away.

He took a seat in his favorite chair and pulled his laptop up onto his knees. He felt… oddly confident. After weeks of mourning over a lost soulmate, he felt better knowing that it was all over and that he could simply forget about it.

But when he opened his laptop, the browser was still on Roderich's website. Roderich still existed, and he was still Gilbert's soulmate, no matter how much Gilbert didn't want to be with him. What had all those weeks of self-pity been for, anyway, if Gilbert was just going to give up?

He decided not to think about it. He quickly closed out of the tab and opened a video someone had sent to him. He couldn't really focus on the video, however, and his eyes wandered around the room. They caught just a brief glance of a blue light shining on the wall in the kitchen. Gilbert looked up, noticing the reflection of his phone onto the countertops. He was getting another call.

He wanted to answer it, but he kept his back firmly against the chair. He wouldn't let Roderich get the best of him, especially after his rude behavior.

He shook it off and returned to watching video after video, anything to keep his mind away from the day's events.

Several hours had been killed watching music videos and let's plays, and Gilbert had already seen Ludwig come and go through the kitchen a few times as he was making dinner. The sky had darkened and the smell of garlic and basil filled the apartment.

Gilbert instinctively set his laptop aside, getting up to go see what Ludwig had made. "Where's my traditional German food!" He demanded playfully.

"Up your ass." Ludwig responded, scooping up a plate of noodles and topping it off with some of the steaming red sauce from the pan on the stove. "Here, a coworker gave me a recipe to try, says its one of his favorites, tell me what you think."

He grinned and shuffled through the drawers for silverware, eventually grabbing a fork and tasting a bite. "Damn, delicious," Gilbert remarked before stuffing his face.

"You can't even wait until you sit down anymore? Do you starve yourself?" Ludwig rolled his eyes and served his own plate, taking a seat at the bar and folding a napkin over his lap.

"Well, when I have a cook like you, might as well!" He laughed before catching the blue glow of the cell phone in the corner of his eye. He took a seat at the bar next to his brother, ignoring it once again.

"I'll tell Feliciano you like it." Ludwig said, swirling some pasta onto his fork.

"How's he doing? You never talk about him anymore, seems like a fun guy," Gilbert mused. "Apparently you're still friends."

Ludwig stared straight ahead, clearly exhausted from his day's work. "Friends. Like I have friends."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you have friends, you've got me-"

"That doesn't count, you're family."

"Yeah well, I'm still your friend, jackass."

Ludwig rolled his eyes again. " _Ja, ja,_ of course." Ludwig's cell phone began to ring in his pocket and he sighed. "Do you care if I take this at dinner?"

Gilbert laughed. "What year is this? Go ahead."

The younger brother pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid the bar across before holding it up to his ear. "Hallo, Beilschmidt." A moment passed with no change before Ludwig held the phone out to his brother. "It's for you."

Gilbert looked mildly surprised, putting the phone to his ear. "Ja?"

"Why aren't you answering my calls!" An indignant - and familiar - voice said.

"How did you get this number, Roderich!" Gilbert demanded.

"I wouldn't have to if you would just answer your damn phone!" He screamed back, shorting the microphone out on his end of the line.

"Don't call my brother's phone!" Gilbert made a disgusted noise and hung up, shoving it back at Ludwig's chest. "Just block his number, sorry about that."

"Maybe you should do something about him, Gilbert." His brother suggested nonchalantly, taking another bite or two.

"Yeah, I'll just block him." He groaned, trying to push his anger down with more food in his stomach.

"He's supposed to be your soulmate; maybe you should try to talk to him," Ludwig said camly.

"I already tried that. As you can see he's not very rational." Gilbert scraped the remainder of the food into his mouth before going to the sink to rinse off his dishes. "I don't need a soulmate to be happy. I have the coolest brother ever!" He grinned at his own attempt to change the subject.

Ludwig, however, looked sternly back at his older brother. " _Ja_ , but what happens when I meet my soulmate and I move somewhere else with them?"

Gilbert looked surprised, Ludwig didn't normally talk like this. "You mean I can't just live in your basement or something? We're brothers!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes before finishing his own plate. "That is the stupidest idea, Gilbert. We will always be brothers, but not roommates. You knew this would happen sooner or later."

"What's wrong with you, you're never like this!" Gilbert said, scrubbing vigorously at the marinara stains on his plate.

"I'm just being rational!" Ludwig remarked, sounding just slightly offended.

Gilbert dropped his plate in the sink, only the full basin of water breaking it's fall. "I'm done with this!" He wiped his hands on his shirt and stomped off, taking his phone from the counter, leaving a very irritated Ludwig with the dishes in the kitchen.

"You're welcome for dinner!" Gilbert heard his brother call as he slammed the door to his bedroom. He plopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, with his phone in hand. He moved his fingers around the device blindly, looking for the home button. When he found it, he held it for a few moments.

"Play my unread voicemails." He said, his voice long and gray.

"You have seven new voicemails." His phone responded. He groaned audibly, thinking that it was more voicemails than he'd ever had in his life. "The first one is from Roderich Edelstein, at 6:23pm."

There was a small pause before Roderich's voice came over the speaker. "Gilbert, I don't know if you got my last call, but please call me back, thank you." He sounded polite, if not slightly annoyed.

"The next voicemail is from Roderich Edelstein at 6:45pm."

"Gilbert, I'm fairly confident you got my message, please respond, just so I know you got it. Call me." Gilbert scoffed at his audible passive-aggressiveness.

"The next voicemail is from Roderich Edelstein at 7:12pm."

"There is no reason for you to be so rude to me, Gilbert. I'm just trying to make things work. Call me now, please." Gilbert again laughed, there was nothing passive present in Roderich's stern voice now.

"The next voicemail is from Roderich Edelstein at 7:39pm."

"You're just being rude! I know you can see these, so please answer your damn phone!" He rolled his eyes, Roderich was so irrational, he couldn't even imagine how he was ever this eloquent for interviews.

"The next voicemail is from Roderich Edelstein at 8:01pm.'

"Gilbert! Answer your phone you asshole! I was trying to be a decent person but apparently my damn soulmate is a child!"

"The last voicemail is from Roderich Edelstein at 8:12pm."

"Gilbert, please," Roderich's voice quietly pleading. "Just pick up, please, I'm begging you. I thought we could work this out, I know my behavior was questionable. I just want to talk to you, please. I want this to work. Please call me."

Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise. Did he just apologize? Not quite. He felt… some sort of pity for Roderich. But also, disgust. What sort of a person calls six times to gripe someone out and then begs the seventh? Now that he thought about it, the last call had been oddly quiet. He barely knew Roderich, what if he had some sort of self-destructive tendencies, and Gilbert had only triggered the behavior by ignoring him?

Gilbert grabbed his a handful of his hair and pulled at it, his face still deep in the pillow. What was happening to him? His normal thoughts, busy with self-righteousness, had been completely transformed into something he had never felt in his life. Suddenly he was concerned with Roderich's well-being, despite their currently rough relationship. He flipped himself over, pressing down the button on his phone again.

"Call Roderich." He said hesitantly.

"Calling Roderich Edelstein." His phone replied. He turned his head to press the speaker button, staring at the cracks in the ceiling.

The phone rang once before he answered. " _Grüß Gott_." How very Austrian, Gilbert thought.

"Are you alright?" Gilbert asked, getting to the point.

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Roderich responded calmly, nonchalantly even.

"Well, in your last message you seemed pretty… distraught."

"Oh, no, I'm fine." He answered vaguely. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Gilbert narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, as if talking to Roderich face-to-face.

"Okay, well, I'll talk to you later." Gilbert said casually, beginning to hang up.

"Wait, wait!" He heard Roderich's pleading tone again, the same one from the voicemail. "Are we not going to work this out?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, groaning. "You didn't even apologize, there is nothing to work out!"

"What am I supposed to be apologizing for?" Roderich asked defensively.

"I'm hanging up."

"Gilbert, seriously, what am I apologizing for?" The impatience was audible in Roderich's pulling voice.

"Maybe your standoffish behavior at the coffee place, or that you didn't even remember our conversation from the trian?" Gilbert suggested rather aggressively. His patience had already worn out.

"It was three in the morning, and I don't see how my behavior was standoffish." He defended.

"Maybe because you sounded like you were just 'testing out your soulmate', especially after you made such a public hissyfit for the cameras, and online. You can't pretend like you didn't want to find me!" Gilbert threw his arm to one side in frustration, knocking his fist against the wall. He drew his hand in close, shaking it off in silent agony as he waited for Roderich's response.

"You are the one with the outlandish behavior," Roderich said suddenly. "What sort of… fool just exposes his Words in public so willingly! You quite literally wear your heart on your sleeve, and that's just simply rude."

Gilbert scoffed loudly at the ceiling. "You can't even apologize for your own damn actions, you have to bring up mine to cover it!" Gilbert shouted, turning his head to the phone. His volume increased with each word he spat out. "And I was trying to explain _why_ I was showing you my Words, but you didn't seem to care as I'm just a goddamn test run! Don't you care about how _I_ might feel about the situation?"

Roderich was silent for a long time. "Gilbert," he said calmly, in that same pleading tone as before.

"What."

"Gilbert, let's just forget about everything today. I'll forget about everything, and you'll forget about everything. Let's just try again, I'll be in Berlin tomorrow and the day after." Roderich sounded rather unfortunately, again, like a businessman as he spoke.

"But you _can't_ forget, I'm trying to explain my actions regarding the Words-" Gilbert began before interrupted by Roderich's voice.

"Gilbert, listen to me." His tone was different now. It was the most honest he had heard him since he spoke with him at _Nollendorfplatz_. "I don't want to know about the Words. If we are to love each other, there are just some things you'll have to respect about each other, and one is that I don't want your Last Words shown to me and I will not show my Last Words to you."

The man's ears stopped at the word "Love". It wasn't a word Gilbert heard often. There wasn't anybody he really loved, besides his brother. But they weren't the type to explicitly say so, though he was sure that his younger brother loved him too. Other than Ludwig, though, the word wasn't really something he handed out to people. Sure, he _loved_ fancy beer. He _loved_ Rammstein. He _loved_ World War Two-style fighter planes. But another person? Romantically? It wasn't something he had ever focused on.

"...Gilbert?" Roderich asked quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, the Words…" he said, musing. He still felt like he was owed some explanation about the strange events surrounding the Last Words on his arm, as he also owed Roderich. "Fine."

"Thank you." Roderich said plainly. "Now, shall we meet tomorrow?"

"Yeah, alright," Gilbert said semi-reluctantly, still focused on the word "love". "Same place, just to avoid getting lost."

"Sounds just fine to me, I will see you at noon?"

"Okay, sure. See you then."

"Alright, well, get some sleep, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah, _guten nacht,_ _Weinerblut._ " Gilbert reached over and pressed the 'end' button, sighing loudly. He closed his eyes, imagining how tomorrow's encounter could possibly go any better than today's massacre. He decided that while he opened up a mindless game to play on his phone, he would put the idea of tomorrow on the backburner. That, alongside that damn word Roderich had dropped.

Love.


	8. Chapter 8

When morning came, Gilbert found himself anxious. He wasn't entirely sure why, he and his brother both rarely experienced any sort of nervousness. As he got dressed, he scolded himself for not knowing the cause of this small dose of adrenaline, and scolding himself for feeling it at all.

With an impending sense of _deja vu_ , Gilbert returned down the same path that he walked yesterday, his sunglasses perched over his nose, his hands tucked tight into the pockets of his white leather jacket. When he came to the spot on the sidewalk where he had tackled Roderich, he stopped and leaned against the wall of the nearest building. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket with one hand, and brushed his pale fringe to the side with the other.

Seconds after sending a message asking "where are you?" he felt a tap on his shoulder. He pivoted around on his heels in surprise, seeing Roderich right behind him. He looked very put-together, from his side-swept hair to his purple coat and perfectly squared collar. Gilbert's residual anxiety picked back up as he now felt underdressed.

" _Grüß Gott_ ," Roderich said, extending a polite handshake. Gilbert hesitated, taking it after a moment of confusion.

"You can't say that in Berlin, _Wienerblut_." Gilbert said smugly, trying to calm his own nerves.

"Excuse me for trying to be polite." Roderich said, retracting his hand. He looked disgustedly up at Gilbert, his eyes hidden by the faint glare of sunlight on his glasses.

Gilbert immediately regretted his words. "Hey, sorry, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot. Just poking a little fun at you."

Roderich paused and turned to face the direction Gilbert had walked from, not looking him in the eye. "I'll resist saying something about how Germans need to be careful about their xenophobia, no matter how playful."

Gilbert crossed his arms. "Excuse me?" He scoffed. "Look, I didn't come here to argue with you, Roderich. I came here to give you a second chance."

Roderich's eyes suddenly darted back to Gilbert's sunglasses. "I'm the one giving you a second chance, Gilbert."

Now feeling personally offended on two levels, Gilbert raised his sunglasses above his eyes just slightly. "Listen. We both apparently messed up the other day so let's not have a repeat. Did you want to hang out or not? I can turn around and go right back home if you just came here to be pissy." Looking Roderich straight in the eyes, he swore he saw his determination falter just slightly.

"...I do want to spend some time with you. I'm just a little on edge, it would seem." Roderich broke eye contact to look down before glancing back up and re-squaring his shoulders. "Many apologies. Let's go enjoy ourselves."

Deciding not to be too concerned with the level of sincerity any longer, Gilbert sighed and turned to face the Brandenburg Gate. "What would you like to do?" He asked politely.

"Well, I thought it would be best if you chose, as you are from Berlin and would laugh if I told you where I'd like to go." Roderich plainly stated.

Gilbert turned back to him and lowered his eyebrows. "What? Tell me."

"No, you choose."

"You can't just drop something like that on me, dude."

"I apologize, as I just did."

"Well, you're the guest in my city." Gilbert immediately scoffed at himself. _His_ city.

"I don't know anything about Berlin." Roderich responded.

"Apparently you do. Just tell me where you want to go!"

Roderich paused and looked away for a moment. "The musical instrument museum." Gilbert grinned as Roderich looked back at him. "See, I told you it was ridiculous."

"No, no," Gilbert said, beginning to walk away. "I just think it's cool, I've never been there either, so let's go." He let his smile continue, deciding that it was probably best to keep both of them in a better mood.

"I'll see where it is," Roderich said plainly, pulling his phone jacket pocket.

"Yeah, just google it." Gilbert said, shifting back on his heels awkwardly for a moment. As soon as the words left his mouth he was filled with regret, remembering those were the last words Roderich must have heard him say before the train doors closed. Apparently, those were not the Last Words that were hidden under Roderich's sleeve. Roderich didn't seem to think anything of his sentence, though, and poked on his phone screen for a few moments.

"It's not far from here, actually," he noted, pocketing his phone. "Right across the street from the Philharmonic." He looked from side to side, trying to assess his location.

Gilbert's smile sunk on one side into a grin that was more smug than polite. "I'll get us there, don't you worry. It's this way." He began walking, waiting briefly for Roderich to catch up. "Have you… been there before?"

Roderich looked ahead; Gilbert could tell he was avoiding looking at his sunglasses. "No, actually. Strange that I haven't, with as many music festivals as I've attended in Berlin." He waited for a moment. "Have you?"

"Oh, no." Gilbert shrugged. "My _classical_ musician days are behind me; I don't have much interest anymore. My heart is really in rock music now, but even then I haven't touched my guitar in months."

"It can be daunting." Roderich stated plainly. "Practicing is often difficult for those of us who are not as disciplined."

Gilbert turned to look at his companion, rather surprised. "You say that like you're not a disciplined guy."

The smug look that had inhabited Gilbert's face had now jumped ship onto Roderich's. He pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose and looked rather mischievous in doing so. "I did all my practicing when I was a child, I've done my time, you could say. The discipline I appear to have just an illusion; a façade I carry even into the professional world. I'm not particularly motivated to do much besides compose."

He liked this new look on Roderich, he hated to admit. Seeing the barriers of formality come down was an interesting experience, and he wondered how long it would last. Maybe, Gilbert thought, he could make it last longer by playing along. He wondered if it counted as flirting. "I didn't realize you were involved in theatre as well as the other fine arts."

The smirk stayed present on Roderich's face and Gilbert felt a little accomplished. "I have some experience. I was in a production of _Les Miserables_ when I was in university."

"So you sing, too?" Gilbert laughed. "Is there anything you don't do?"

Roderich turned to look earnestly up at him. "Brass and percussion."

Gilbert only laughed more. "I knew you were smart."

Roderich countered his laughter with a small smile. "I knew you were, as well."

A little surprised, Gilbert allowed the stop in conversation. Just like that night at _Nollendorfplatz,_ the silence wasn't awkward nor did it seem dared to be filled. He appreciated how natural it felt to just walk next to the man who was supposed to be his soulmate.

After a few minutes they approached the building, and Gilbert hurried ahead for the door. He pulled the handle and opened it before Roderich caught up with him. "After you, sir." He said, half-polite and half-flirtatious.

"Thank you, sir." Roderich said, in the same tone, raising an eyebrow up at him playfully. Gilbert felt his heart beat ever so slightly faster.

The pair approached the counter, Roderich already immersed in his interests. He looked around the wide-open room, his eyes gleaming with excitement in the sunlight streaming in. Gilbert watched him for a moment, liking the continued streak of breaking his stoic look. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a sign propped up on the desk that read _Enrich Your Museum Experience! Audio tours, only 3€._

He then turned his attention to the woman behind the counter playing on her phone. Without looking she slid two small slips of paper across to him. "Six euros per person."

Knowing that he owed Roderich after leaving him with the bill the other night, he dug his wallet out of his pocket. He sorted through his cash before putting down twelve euros worth of bills. "Could I get two audio tours, also?" He asked.

The woman exhaled an exasperated sigh and put her phone down slowly, opening a drawer. "Six euros." She slapped two little audio devices with attached earbuds onto the counter.

Roderich had already wandered off a few steps, beginning to read the plaques labeling an old harpsichord. "Yeah… uh…" Gilbert paused. He only had four more one-euro coins. "Okay, just one. Sorry." He placed the three coins on top of the bills and took one of the devices as the woman rolled her eyes and returned to her phone.

Gilbert approached Roderich, who was staring in awe at the huge pipes on an organ. He had no idea that Gilbert was there. "Hey, _Wienerblut_ ," he interrupted. Roderich jumped just a bit, turning to see him. He held out the little device with a smile. "Thought this would _enrich_ _your museum experience._ "

Roderich's eyes widened, looking down at it and back up at Gilbert. "…where's yours?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Ah, didn't have enough money on me. Don't worry about it. I owe you for leaving you with the bill the other day."

Roderich looked back down and took the device from his hand, brushing his fingers slightly. "Well… thank you. It's… very thoughtful of you."

Gilbert shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He noticed that Roderich looked awfully sheepish. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, well, I hate for you to miss out. You didn't have to get this for me." He said, slowly putting in an earbud.

"Again, don't worry about it. I thought you'd enjoy getting as much information out of this as possible. This museum doesn't look too terribly interactive." Gilbert put his hands in his pockets and stared ahead at the huge piano-thing that Roderich was so interested in.

The two stared at it for a moment before Gilbert felt a push on his arm. He looked over to see Roderich holding out the other earbud. "We should share it, then." He stated.

Gilbert smiled and accepted the offer. "How cute." He put the earbud in his ear and stood shoulder to shoulder with his companion.

"Cute?" Roderich said, sounding a little offended. "I'm just being nice!"

Gilbert laughed, looking smug. "Don't get all romantic on me, _Wienerblut._ I'm going to have to hold your hand or something and knowing you, you probably won't like it."

Gilbert's attitude changed quickly when he felt Roderich's fingers slip through his own. The warmth of his palm pressed to Roderich's shot through his entire body and his heart beat increased. He looked down at Roderich suddenly, who was too busy finding the buttons on the audio tour player. "You don't know me as well as you think you do, Gilbert." He pressed play and pocketed the little remote, staring ahead at the organ in front of them.

Gilbert's already pale face could not have become any whiter with embarrassment. He followed Roderich's actions and stared straight ahead at the instrument, trying to focus on the exhibit rather than how much he enjoyed the feeling of Roderich's hand in his.

" _Wilkommen in dem Berliner Musikinstrument-Museum…"_


	9. Chapter 9

It had been an hour since they had arrived at the museum and Gilbert was beginning to lose interest in the exhibits. Instead, he found himself more entertained with Roderich's reaction to them. Like a kid in a candy store, Gilbert thought. He stood by his side every second, though, just enjoying seeing Roderich come out of his shell.

The two had been relatively quiet, as well. The audio tour had kept them entertained for about half an hour, and Roderich occasionally would pause it to discuss something he saw particularly interesting. Gilbert was amazed at how much he knew about all these old instruments. He was also amazed at how much Roderich _cared_ about these old instruments.

"I can't believe there's a Strad here, well, I mean I can. But it's just so beautiful. I've only seen one other in person, sort of. Andre Rieu played it at the New Year's in Vienna concert several years ago… it was beautiful…." Roderich trailed off as he stared through the glass case at the set of instruments. He had made several comments like this throughout the day. Gilbert found it endearing, almost enchanting, that this boring museum of all places could make Roderich open up.

Gilbert didn't have much to contribute in the way of conversation. He had noted that the flutes owned by Frederick the Great were "pretty cool", as that was part of his family history. Roderich seemed interested, but also distracted. Gilbert knew it wasn't really important, so he didn't try to press his comments. The silence was not awkward though; it was a natural feeling that Gilbert reveled in. The only awkwardness was the fact that there seemed to be nobody else in the main hall of the museum.

After quite some time, Roderich pulled the earbud out of his ear. It had long since stopped playing the tour. Gilbert wanted to think it was just an excuse to keep the two of them close, but he knew that was probably wishful thinking.

"What is that set up for?" Roderich asked, pointing to the grand piano standing in a lowered area. It was surrounded by a long couch, and with lights pointing down directly overhead, Gilbert could tell that Roderich was itching to try it out.

For the first time in the hour they had spent, a staff member appeared. "Sometimes we have guest artists perform." The woman from behind the counter appeared from behind a doorway. "Nobody is scheduled today though."

Roderich approached the piano, with Gilbert taking a seat on the couch very prematurely. Roderich shot him a look, knowing his intent was to hear a performance.

"This is the piano on which Carl Maria von Weber composed _Der Freischütz_." She said, closing the door behind her. "I don't know if you're a fan of opera."

"Oh, yes, quite. How interesting!" Roderich remarked, bending down to take a closer look inside the piano. Gilbert did his best to hide an amused smile. He couldn't get over how much he liked seeing Roderich so excited. As the woman began to walk away, she again returned to her phone. Roderich turned back toward the piano. "May I play it?" He asked.

The woman suddenly turned on her heels. "We do not allow guests to play the instru-" She began, but Roderich was already seated. Gilbert covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Consider me a guest artist," Roderich mused before running his fingers down the keys. He suddenly began a fury of notes, in a fast waltz tempo. Gilbert watched his eyes glare down at the keys in an unbreakable focus, his entire body moving back and forth with the repeated scales he played up and down the keyboard. Gilbert was taken completely by surprise watching him. He had seen a video of him playing the violin – it was a slower piece. But this was a completely different side of Roderich that he had not yet seen in music. Perhaps it was matching his excited mood for the day.

Roderich came to a stop, lifting his hands high off the keys, looking rather proud of himself for a moment before looking up expectantly at Gilbert.

Gilbert's wide, red eyes were unmoving, staring directly into Roderich's. The woman suddenly walked between them, grabbing Roderich's arm. "Okay, it is time for you to leave now. I'm afraid we have to escort out those who break museum policy."

Roderich looked a little shocked, standing up and towering over the woman. Gilbert followed, getting up and standing next to Roderich's side. "Hey wait a second! This is _Roderich Edelstein_ , the famous pianist!"

The famous pianist turned and looked at Gilbert with a frown. "You don't need to go showing me off." Suddenly the childish enjoyment in his eyes had disappeared.

"You just said you were a guest artist!" Gilbert retorted.

"I said…!" Roderich stopped and rolled his eyes. "Let me speak for myself." He turned back to the woman. "I apologize, I was just playing Weber's second piano concerto on Weber's piano. I thought it would be… _cool_." He glanced back, catching Gilbert's eyes for a moment.

The woman looked rather surprised as well. "Oh, well. Herr Edelstein, I didn't realize… well, I'm sorry, it's just policy…" Her eyes shifted quickly between the two of the men, and Gilbert could see that she was connecting dots of some sort.

"It's quite alright," Roderich stated, handing her the audio tour device from his pocket. "We were going to leave anyway. I'm getting hungry." He began leading the way out the door, taking some interesting initiative. Gilbert was a little shocked at this take-charge attitude, and began to follow him.

The woman followed them a few steps behind toward the door, returning the front desk. "Well… Thank you, gentlemen, have a nice day!" She waved.

"What would you like for lunch, Gilbert?" Roderich asked as he decided to open the door for him this time.

Gilbert stepped through the door, just barely catching the wide eyes of the employee reacting to the name as he stepped through the door. She turned back in surprise, watching him walk out. Gilbert panicked briefly at the thought of his now-familiar name causing a stir. "Thanks… uh… I could go for anything."

Roderich returned to his side after letting go of the door. "What is nearby?" He asked after a few moments, his tone dropping to his more familiar, formal voice.

"Are you okay?" Gilbert asked, stopping the two of them and turning to face him as he fiddled with putting his sunglasses back on.

"What? Yes, why?" Roderich responded.

"You're acting different. Well I mean. Like you acted different when we were in there, and now you're back to how you were. After you played the piano. I also have a feeling that woman's going to make us a hashtag again."

Roderich looked directly into Gilbert's eyes and stated matter-of-factly, "I was just showing off. I was a little angry that she wanted us to leave," he paused and turned to the side, now avoiding eye contact. "I was also a little angry that you told her who I was. A 'guest artist' doesn't mean anything."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, not that Roderich could see it behind the black lenses. "Look, I just said that so you could keep playing. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, and I mean I was having a good time watching you, I just thought if she knew who you were then she would let you stay. Sorry…"

Roderich raised his eyebrows and turned back to him. "Well… thank you. And… thank you for taking me there. It had a very nice time."

"You sound like you don't want lunch." Gilbert said.

"Well…" Roderich began.

"What's wrong, Roderich?"

"No _Wienerblut_ this time?" He said, lowering just one eyebrow.

"I'm being serious," Gilbert sighed. "I'm never serious. What's bugging you?"

"Is this moving too fast for you?" Roderich asked. The question made Gilbert take a step back.

"What…?"

"I mean… we just… we are moving rather quickly."

"…are you serious?"

"I'm _always_ serious." Roderich said, mockingly. "I'm just noticing that this is going so fast-"

"What's your problem? We held hands and you're the one that instigated it. You're the one who was so desperate to find me…!" Gilbert crossed his arms.

"Well, we just barely know each other-"

"And I think we are clicking pretty damn well, Roderich. I mean… if you don't want us to click, then…" Gilbert looked down, grabbing his neck. "I don't know what to tell you…"

There was a heavy silence between them for a moment, and this time it was rather awkward. Gilbert was taken completely by surprise at Roderich's statement, and didn't know what to think. He didn't understand what was wrong. They had been doing so well together, and suddenly Roderich didn't want any of it.

"Can we go somewhere private to talk?" Roderich said quietly.

"Uh… yeah, um, let me check…" he pulled his phone out and quickly sent a text to his brother.

 _Are you home?_

Almost immediately, Ludwig replied with a buzz of his phone. _No, at Feliciano's watching football. Why?_

 _Can you stay there for a while?_

He looked up. "Yeah, my brother isn't home. We can go back to my apartment."

"Thank you." Roderich said plainly.

"Here, let's take the _U-Bahn._ Pretty sure a line goes real close to our flat." He began heading for the station near the Brandenburg Gate, feeling the awkwardness increase in weight as Roderich followed him silently.

His phone buzzed once more, another reply from Ludwig.

 _Use a condom._

The journey home had been a silent one, and Gilbert feared that he had done something wrong. He really didn't want Roderich to hate him, especially after they had made it this far. Especially after the turmoil they had both endured to find each other. "Can I get you something to drink?" He asked politely as they stepped inside.

Roderich looked around, eventually taking a place on the couch. "Ah… if you have coffee."

"Yeah, I'll just make some," Gilbert mused, going into the kitchen and getting out the instant coffee from the cabinets below the stove. "Look. I don't know what I did to piss you off…" He stood up and suddenly Roderich was right behind him. He jumped in surprise, grabbing his chest. "Shit!"

"Sorry." Roderich said with no sense of apology. "No instant coffee, please."

Gilbert narrowed his gaze and grimaced. "That's all we've got."

Roderich waved his hand. "Then, no thank you."

Gilbert paused, putting the container of instant coffee back below the counter. "Let's talk."

"You didn't anger me, Gilbert," Roderich said, looking sure of himself but sounding disappointed. "I just… I have never really… this 'dating' thing or whatever we are calling it, it is very new to me. I've never really enjoyed myself with someone out in public like that, and it was a very different experience… not that it was bad…"

Gilbert leaned against the counter. "You've never been on a date before?"

"No, my marriage was arranged-"

"Marriage?!" Gilbert exclaimed. "Excuse me?"

Roderich groaned and put a hand on his forehead. "Yes, I was married to Elizabeta for several years. It was agreed upon by our parents when we were much younger."

"You've been married before!" Gilbert said, more as a statement than a question. This wasn't something that he would've ever expected.

"It didn't work out, of course! She… we were never really that interested in each other and after a while we both agreed that our families were not benefiting from the arrangement and that we should carry on as friends." Roderich stood up straight in front of Gilbert.

"And now she's your manager! What the hell!"

"She's more of a people-person than I am." Roderich shrugged.

"You don't say," Gilbert mused before sighing and standing up straight again, making sure that Roderich knew that he was the taller one. "Okay. Look. You are giving me a lot of mixed signals right now and I just want to know if you want to… try and make this work, or not."

Roderich looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. Gilbert was beginning to sense a pattern. "Gilbert. We barely know each other. I think it would be best if… if for now we are to carry on as friends."

Gilbert sighed. "Okay. That's fine."

Roderich looked back. "I'm glad you are not upset."

"I mean I'm a little upset, but you're right. I have no idea how to deal with you." Gilbert shrugged and spun around, hiding his exasperated look. Roderich was such a handful. "You wanna hang around here? We didn't talk for long."

"I do not want to be an inconvenience to you." Roderich said, adjusting his glasses.

"You aren't, I was probably just going to watch some television or something, if you want to stick around."

Roderich looked back up at Gilbert. "What kind of shows do you like to watch?"

The front door clicked open several hours later, and Gilbert watched as Ludwig shoved the door open and dropped his work briefcase. " _Brüder_!" He proclaimed loudly, stumbling forward. "Did you see that shot! Germany won! We're going to fight Bel-"

"Shut up, Ludwig!" Gilbert interrupted, waving his hand. "We're about to see who's getting eliminated!"

"W…What?" Ludwig asked, genuinely confused in his drunken state. " _Mein Gott,_ are you watching 'Superstar'?"

"Yes! Shut up!" Gilbert exclaimed.

"Max Fischer, I'm sorry, but you are going home tonight." The TV host said sadly.

Gilbert jumped up out of his seat. "No! No he is so good please keep him!" Gilbert suddenly pleaded.

Roderich, on the other hand, just propped up a foot on his opposite knee and sighed. "He just isn't remarkable. Anyone can sing, but he's just too similar to everyone who has already won the show. He doesn't bring anything new to the table." He shook his head. "At least they didn't send Lina home, I think she is going to win the whole thing."

Gilbert grabbed the remote, sighing. "Yeah, I think you're right…"

Ludwig stumbled forward. "So _did_ you use a condom?"

"What?" Roderich said, alarmed.

"Oh my god," Gilbert got up and walked his brother to his bedroom. "How many beers did you have with Feliciano?"

"Not a lot." Ludwig said. "But I took a taxi home… Eight."

"Eight?" Gilbert laughed. "You're losing it, Ludwig. Eight beers is hardly anything!" He plopped his brother onto his bed and watched him roll over in drunken bliss. "Also, don't say shit to Roderich, please. We are _friends_ now."

" _Ja_ , sure…" Ludwig sighed, and Gilbert rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him. "Get some sleep." He was glad that his brother had fun, but he was a little surprised with himself. He had missed the game to watch ' _Deustchland sucht den Superstar'_ with Roderich. He wasn't normally forgetful of the game schedule…

He returned to the living room to see Roderich putting on his coat. "You're leaving?"

"It's getting late. I was going to go home earlier, but…" he turned back to the couch. "I got distracted. I need to go find a hotel."

"Just stay here, Roderich. The couch is open, and it's pretty comfy." Gilbert never felt so moved to hospitality. "Or you could sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch, whatever you want."

Roderich looked genuinely surprised. "You… really?" He seemed skeptic.

"Yeah, it's fine. It would spare you another night getting lost on the U-Bahn." Gilbert was unsure how smug he sounded in his last remark, only regretting it slightly. He again picked up the remote to switch the TV off.

"I, ah, have nothing to wear, so I'd better go…" Roderich said, looking around on the floor, presumably for his shoes.

"If you really want to stay, I've got some sweatpants you can sleep in." Gilbert began to straighten up, taking the empty popcorn bowl back to the kitchen, Roderich following closely.

" _You_ sound like you want me to stay."

Gilbert turned on his heels, facing Roderich. "I'm just trying to be generous, _Wienerblut,_ " he leaned back slightly, feeling a little too close to him. "It is up to you. We have guests all the time, so you're not getting special treatment or anything."

Roderich looked curiously at him for a moment. "Then, if you don't mind saving me a few Euros, I would appreciate you allowing me to stay here." He stood squarely and professionally, even with the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his hair slightly upturned from the back of the couch.

Gilbert looked over him, again noticing how attractive he was for only a second. "Well, we aren't running a bed and breakfast here, so let's take it a notch or two down on the professional volume settings." Feeling amused at his own joke, he motioned for Roderich to follow him.

He led him down the hall to his room, opening a dresser drawer. "I don't know if I've got anything that won't be too big for you, you'll just have to pull the elastic a little tighter than usual." He moved some clothes around until he finally found a pair of black sweatpants that he thought would be useful to him. He turned to hold them out to Roderich, but was surprised to see him staring around his room. "What?"

Roderich turned back quickly. "Sorry, I- Your room is so clean."

Gilbert half-smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Roderich looked down, accepting the folded trousers from him. "My room is not."

Gilbert laughed. "It's not? I would've expected it to be so orderly, from the look of you."

Roderich turned to the side, slightly embarrassed. "I was expecting yours to be as _dis_ orderly as mine, from your personality."

He paused. "I'll let that one slide, _Wienerblut._ There's some things you don't know about me." He stared Roderich down for a second like a parent scolding a child. Feeling uncomfortable, he turned around and switched the tone. "So. Do you want to sleep in my room, or on the couch?"

Roderich seemed relieved in the change of tone. "Ah, well… um. How firm is your mattress?"

He laughed, suddenly jumping as high as he could without hitting the ceiling and belly-flopping onto the bed. It sank underneath his weight immediately, the blanket rippling like a rock had been thrown into a pond. "It's not. Ludwig sleeps on a literal brick, though, so I could kick him out if you-"

"No, that's perfect." Roderich interrupted with a small smile. "I can't sleep on anything that isn't made of _literal_ marshmallows." His smile turned smug for just a second, and left the room swiftly and turned the corner for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning greeted Gilbert like a telemarketer call during Sunday dinner. The sunlight from the living room windows crept in through the curtains, he had forgotten to close the blinds. He groaned and sat up slowly, feeling his sore muscles ache. He wasn't used to sleeping on the couch and he made note that he wouldn't be doing it again any time soon.

Staring up at the ceiling, he remembered Roderich, most likely still fast asleep as he hadn't heard anyone else get up. He should probably offer him breakfast-

A buzzing underneath his arm snapped him out of his thoughts. Fumbling for a few moments, Gilbert cursed as he tried to locate his phone. He reached under the couch cushion for it, barely able to slide the screen across to answer the call in time.

" _Hallo_."

"Gilbert!" Antonio cried joyously.

"Uh, yeah." Gilbert was taken back by the volume of his friend's voice. His own voice was low and gravel-like from the full night of sleep.

"Why didn't you say anything about being a trending hashtag!"

"…Jesus, what…" Gilbert rubbed his eyes, afraid but anticipating what his friend's next words would be.

"Hashtag-find-gilbert. I didn't know it was about you! And it's made a comeback just this morning." Antonio's excitement was tangible, even through the phone.

"Oh god." Gilbert said, switching his friend to speaker. "Let me check Twitter."

Antonio continued to ramble excitedly as Gilbert waited impatiently for the app to open on his phone. Sure enough, trending hashtags included #findgilbert and #foundgilbert. Running through the tweets, it was the same excitement as a few weeks prior, but with reinvented exhilaration. The masses of Roderich's followers had gone off the rails, and Gilbert could easily trace it back to one tweet.

A singular photo of the two of them facing each other outside the museum. It resembled a paparazzi photo, or perhaps one taken by a stalker. The right half of the photo suffered from a terrible glare from the window, but there was no doubt it was Roderich and Gilbert. The tweet that followed was even creepier.

 _Musikwissenschaftin_ Saw RJ_Edelstein today in Berlin with a man he called Gilbert #foundgilbert !

It was undoubtedly the museum worker that had snapped the picture of the two of them, and unabashedly put it forth for the world to see.

Gilbert dropped the phone on his face and groaned. "Oh my god."

Antonio, still blabbering in the background, caught up with him. "-but you've met your soulmate! That's so exciting!"

"Dude… I'm going to have to call you back," Gilbert said with his eyes closed. "I've got to deal with this." Without another word, he closed out of the call, feeling bad about abandoning his friend. Antonio would probably understand, he reasoned.

Gilbert peeled himself off the couch, feeling worse than he ever had. Using his hand to guide him along the wall, he went straight for his bedroom, swinging the door open. "Roderich." He stated, surprised to see the man sleeping like a rock.

His facial features were stagnant, but not in the usual way. During the day he clearly worked hard to keep his face in as few expressions as possible, but now they were relaxed and effortlessly handsome. Gilbert recognized the face from the train station. The face Roderich made when he thought nobody else was looking. Gilbert sighed. This man was causing him a lot of trouble. He glanced down, seeing his hand resting on his chest and the other stretched out across the mattress.

 _Soon, hopefully._ The outstretched arm held the Words, clearly visible for Gilbert to read even from across the room. He froze for a moment. Everything about the Words that had bothered him… it could be solved if Roderich would just swap his hands. He would finally have the answers to how he managed to cheat the system, or whatever had happened…

Roderich's eyes suddenly snapped open, making contact with Gilbert's for a moment. He shifted uncomfortably, sliding both of his hands underneath the blanket to unnaturally hide them.

Gilbert absent-mindedly put hands over his own wrists. "So modest, Roderich." He stated, his voice flat and irritated.

"Good morning." Roderich responded with the same tone. He stretched his arms, careful to keep the Words turned downward. "I'm curious as to what you're staring at." He spoke slowly, his mind still recovering from the inertia of sleep.

Gilbert blinked, looking away. "Check your Twitter." He said plainly. Roderich blinked back at him, reaching onto the nightstand for his phone. Gilbert watched as he opened the app, his eyes widening with confusion. He rubbed his forehead, scrolling silently through what Gilbert assumed was hundreds of tweets.

"It's been worse." Roderich stated flatly, shutting off his phone and rolling back over.

" _It's been worse_!" Gilbert repeated, mocking his indifference. "Are you _serious?_ "

Roderich didn't move an inch. "Two years ago when one of the boys from the band tweeted a snarky response to some rabid fascist, all of us got caught up in the feed, it was viral for two weeks str-"

Gilbert threw his weight against the wall in disgust. "Oh my god Roderich. I can't believe you."

Roderich turned his head to face Gilbert, his face twisted in disgust. "I'm sorry my story isn't interesting."

"Jesus Christ, Roderich." Gilbert reached behind him and slammed the door shut, securing the two of them in the room together. "We have to talk about this. I'm not doing this again."

Roderich sat up straight, rubbing his eyes with his palms. He sighed and slowly reached for his glasses on the nightstand. He wiped off the lenses with Gilbert's blanket and perched them on his nose, perfectly symmetrical. Finally, he took a deep breath and faced the man. "What do you want to talk about, Gilbert."

It was more a statement than a question, and Gilbert felt the hot hostility rising from his guest's words. He didn't break eye contact for a second. "Look. All I wanted was some clarification on what to do. You've gone viral before, you're a damn celebrity. But I'm _not_ a celebrity, and I want some answers about what to do when you've unintentionally become a hashtag."

Looking bitter, if not uninterested, Roderich picked up his phone. "Gilbert. We agreed that we would be friends. I would like to leave it that way until further notice. I can tweet out whatever you want me to right now about our situation, I can diminish this whole thing. I don't want to force you into any fame or limelight that you don't want to be a part of."

Shocked, Gilbert stared down the man sitting in his bed. This was the most genuine that Roderich had ever been with him. His sincerity was appreciated, but so unprecedented that Gilbert wasn't quite sure what to do with it. "Well…"

Roderich's phone suddenly rang in his hands, startling the both of them. He looked down at it in a mixture of disgust and surprise. " _Scheisse_."

"Who is it?"

"It's our manager…"

" _Our_ manager!"

Roderich hissed back. "The _band's_ manager, idiot."

Gilbert sat down on the bed, feeling defensive. He fell backwards onto the mattress and listened half-heartedly.

" _Ja?"_ Roderich answered, pausing for a long while. "I'm not sure…. It's not fair to him… are you serious? ...I'll ask him. I'm just not sure… Alright." He hung up without a salutation, and sighed a deep sigh. "Well."

"Well?" Gilbert prompted.

Roderich ran a hand through his wavy hair, pulling it from his scalp more than the pillow already had. "My manager has an offer for us. Some gossip… news… platform, I don't know… _DerKlatschTratsch_ is offering us five thousand euros a piece for our first official interview… as a couple."

Roderich seemed to be taking this news rather lightly, but Gilbert was dumbstruck. _Five thousand euros?_ Where do people get this money?

"Is that… really? Like, this is actually a possibility?" Gilbert said, returning his back against the wall.

Roderich shrugged. "I mean we could easily barter with them for more. But it's up to you." He stood slowly as he waited for Gilbert's reply and found his shirt from the day before in a pile on the ground. Gilbert watched in horror as he slid the unwashed shirt over his shoulders.

"Do you want a clean shirt?" He found himself blurting out.

"Excuse me?" Roderich turned back to him, looking surprised.

"I mean, you wore that yesterday."

"Yes?"

"…I can give you a clean shirt, Roderich."

"It's not necessary, this shirt is fine."

Gilbert threw his hands up before walking across the room to his dresser. He shoved the top drawer open and threw a folded t-shirt at Roderich, knowing that it would probably be a size too big for him. Roderich caught the shirt at his chest, frowning. "Well, thank you." He said with no sincerity, and slid the shirt on without further arguments. "So, what do you want to do?"

Gilbert sat on the opposite side of the bed, staring out the window. "We could make money from this?"

Roderich sat on the bed facing the door. The two men with their backs to each other felt some sort of odd solidarity in their strange situation. "We could make some money from interviews, at least the first few. My selfish thoughts are that this could potentially be some very good press for the band."

Gilbert looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. "Am I going to be famous?"

Roderich let out a puff of air, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "It's possible. I think you'll get to pick how famous you are, once this stops trending. You can choose to make appearances with the band, like Mendel's girlfriend does, or you could… not."

Considering his options, Gilbert laid down and stared at the ceiling. He felt overwhelmed by the huge decision he had to make. He had always wanted to be famous, maybe as a writer, but here fame was confronting him head-on. It would just be… given to him. It didn't feel right to not have earned it, but perhaps this would jump start his path to stardom that he had always thought about. He would try to keep his brother out of it, as he was perfectly happy with his privacy. But if he could make some extra money for the two of them, and perhaps become better friends with the man who was intended to be his soulmate, then why not?

"I'll do the interview. I'll play it by ear from there."

Roderich turned to look down at him, a semi-amused look on his face. "Is that a music joke?"

Gilbert returned the look, but with more smugness. "It is if you want it to be."


	11. Chapter 11

"Well, just… don't get lost from here."

Gilbert put his hand on a nearby railing, leaning to the side slightly. He had led Roderich back to the U-Bahn station that would take him to the Intercity-Express. He needed to catch the next train back to Vienna, and work out details with the band about their interview. The two hadn't really exchanged much banter during their walk, but now they were left with the silence and unsureness in the air. The silence they shared their fateful night at Nollendorfplatz had been comfortable, but this silence was hesitant.

Roderich stood in front of the staircase to the station, looking down at it as if he was staring into the pit of Hades. Gilbert wasn't sure whether or not his _friend_ knew where to go, and didn't want to abandon him.

"I don't think I will," Roderich said. He looked up at Gilbert, his expression blank.

Gilbert glanced to the side. "Uh… well… good luck. Hope you get things sorted… just… text or call me or whatever with details… about… stuff." He desperately wanted Roderich to just leave, rather than stand there like a teenager expecting a kiss after a lackluster date. Surely that's not what he wanted… right?

"I will." Roderich glanced to the side as well, leaving the two of them awkwardly examining the buildings to their left and right.

Gilbert couldn't take it anymore. "Have a good trip." He said, turning away. He suddenly felt a hand grab his fingers. He turned and saw Roderich, bright red. The man's eyes were wide, the size of his pupils further exaggerated by his glasses. Gilbert, on the other hand, knew he must be shades away from translucent. What the hell was Roderich doing. Maybe he should ask.

"What the hell are you doing." He said, in the calmest voice he could muster.

Roderich's grip around his fingers was suffocating. It was his left hand, his violin hand, Gilbert noted. "Um…" Roderich stuttered. He had never been at a loss for words.

Gilbert used his free hand to pick up his sunglasses from his face, just enough to make eye contact with Roderich but not enough to hurt his eyes. "You want to explain to me what's in your head right now, _Wienerblut_?"

Roderich blinked. "I… I don't know." He dropped Gilbert's hand, grabbing his own wrist as if to discipline it. "Thank you for letting me stay with you. I will contact you soon."

Gilbert put his sunglasses back down, sighing. "You… can be honest with me, you know."

The man looked back down the stairs, uncharacteristically nervous. "I know."

Gilbert turned to walk away once again. This time, there was nobody stopping him, and he heard Roderich's shoes click against the stone floor down the steps. He didn't quite know what to think of that _friendly_ interaction at the moment, so he just put all his thoughts into what he should get his brother for lunch.

After putting the mustard back in the fridge, the kitchen had been put back together. It hadn't been a huge mess, but Gilbert had a lot on his mind and cleaning was therapeutic. On the table he had two sandwiches and some leftover potatoes from dinner a few nights ago. Hopefully his brother was awake, because he needed some proper socialization after an interesting morning with Roderich.

He went to his brother's bedroom, knocking loudly. "Hey hey, Lud. _Carpe Diem_."

"Come in." Ludwig said, his voice surprisingly clear.

Gilbert pushed the door open, seeing Ludwig sitting on his made bed in his sweatpants. He was scrolling on his phone, the blue twitter background reflecting off of his reading glasses. "So, your soulmate seems to be more famous than I thought."

The older brother slumped his head backwards. "God, enough. I'm so sick of the damn hashtag!"

The younger brother looked up in surprise. "I think it's rather sweet." His tone suddenly shifted. It wasn't like him to be sentimental about trivial things.

Gilbert sat on the end of his brother's bed, looking directly into the mirror on the wall. He looked himself over, wondering how he might look on camera if this interview was a real possibility. "Ten-thousand people tweeting your name because of one gossiper who couldn't keep it to herself?"

Ludwig looked back up at his brother from his phone. "What are you talking about?"

Gilbert fell backwards on Ludwig's brick of a mattress, regretting it for a second before continuing. "I'm talking about the museum lady who took that stalker picture of us."

"Stalker picture?" Ludwig was clearly not following.

Gilbert turned to face him, suddenly very worried. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"I'm talking about Roderich's tweet." Ludwig said. Before Gilbert could react, his brother's phone was in his hands and opened to a tweet.

RJ_Edelstein Had an excellent day with someone I care very much about. Cannot wait for you to meet him. #foundgilbert #fridaywithfrida

Gilbert looked up in surprise at his brother. "Uh…" What the hell...

"It's been retweeted four thousand times." Ludwig said, taking his phone back.

Gilbert stood up quickly, heading down the hall. "I made lunch, when you want it." He rushed back to his room for his phone. He knew that leaving it unattended all day was a bad idea. He thought he'd be doing himself a favor by staying away from social media, but Roderich was determined to prove him wrong about everything. He ripped his phone from the charger, watching the screen light up with a dozen unread messages.

He opened his conversation with Roderich, thinking of a script that would give Roderich a piece of his mind. But a message appeared from Roderich, it was sent about an hour after he had left him at the U-Bahn.

 _Gilbert. Thank you again for letting me stay with you and your brother. Elizabeta has scheduled the interview in Berlin for this Friday. I have digitally signed a contract regarding payment, which I will give you half of. I thought it would be best for you not to sign contracts just yet, as with organizations like DerKlatschTrasch they can lead to bigger messes. They can work around whatever your work schedule is, so just let me know. Part of the contract is that I promote the interview ahead of time, so I'll be tweeting a few things to get the public excited for it. The tweets will probably sound rather sappy, I apologize in advance. That's publicity, though._

 _Also, I'm terribly sorry about my behavior this morning. It was very early and I'm afraid my head did not quite have control over my heart._

 _I'll be in Berlin on Thursday, so we can discuss what we want to talk about. See you soon._

Gilbert read the message over and over again. His head did not have control over his heart? He had a sneaking suspicion about what that meant, but he wasn't about to act on it. At least he wouldn't have to rip him a new one for making a decision without him.

Suddenly, Gilbert looked up from his phone in shock. He looked back down at the text and read it again. Roderich had been using the informal "you" in the text, which the two of them had never exchanged in person or in writing. Roderich's brain still didn't have control over his heart, it would seem.


	12. Chapter 12

The interview is tomorrow, Gilbert thought as he dressed himself for work. Thankfully, he had been gifted the afternoon shift so that he might attempt to get an hour or two of sleep before the big day. He stared himself down in the mirror, for once not out of narcissism. The look he exchanged with his pale reflection was one of disbelief. In the last weeks, his life had completely changed, and it was only going to get worse.

He gently ran his hands over the seams of his blazer, straightening out the remaining kinks. As he brought his hands up to his collar, he glanced down at his wrists. He popped out the cuffs on his shirt, covering his Words. Before he met Roderich, he had rarely thought about how he might meet his soulmate. He surely hadn't thought it would be anything as dramatic as this. And now that Roderich was in his life, he couldn't even remember any of the scenarios he had once imagined.

 _Excuse me, when is the next train coming?_ Had never given him much hope. It was a terrifying thought. But it was stupid of him, he thought, that he had never considered that those might the First Words, and not the Last. But thinking of either of his Words as the last… he physically shook the feeling off. The discomfort was enough to bother him into another train of thought.

He pocketed his housekeys and his wallet as he opened the door into the cold Berlin afternoon. The air was still and gray. For the first time in forever, he hoped that his shift would feel long. He knew that he was going to need to sleep, but his nerves would keep him awake unless he was absolutely exhausted.

As he pushed the door to the establishment open, his boss immediately greeted him. "Gilbert!"

"How's it going, Holger?" He said, slipping behind the bar. He threw his blazer underneath the counter, already too warm. "Busy today?"

"Not too busy, no…" Holger said, taking a seat in an empty stool across the bartop. "But I think I thought of a way for us to be busier."

"And what's that?" Gilbert said. "More marketing to tourists?" He playfully put his chin in his hands and leaned over to face the manager.

"Actually, Markus and I thought that you might be able to help us." The man said, pressing his too-small glasses to his too-big face.

"You guys know I don't speak more than three sentences of English, and my Dutch is even worse…"

"No, not the tourists, Gilbert. Your boyfriend." Holger laughed, his wide stomach shaking the counter.

Gilbert paused, suddenly feeling very tense. "My boyfriend?" Had Roderich been here? How did Holger know about him? He didn't think Holger was a twitter kind of person.

"Markus told me that you and your boyfriend are doing something tomorrow for some website?"

God damnit. "Well, Markus is full of shit. I don't have a boyfriend."

Ready to strike, Markus popped his head around the corner from the kitchen. "That's bullshit!" Markus exclaimed.

"Speak of the devil," Gilbert mused, leaning backwards to let the brick scrape his back. This was already going to be a long shift.

"Nora follows your boyfriend on twitter, we saw that picture of you!" Markus whipped his phone out of his pocket. "Dude, she's super jealous. She always said that she'd dump me for him. She's been in love with him since she was sixteen. She loves his stupid band." Markus hastily scrolled through his phone as he spoke, eventually holding it out for him to see. Sure enough, the picture taken by the museum worker was once again flashed into Gilbert's face.

He took the phone, looking over the picture again as if it hadn't already been burned into his memory. He felt defensive though; Markus was being his usual asshole self. Gilbert retorted, "Roderich is not my boyfriend, and his band isn't stupid."

Markus and Holger shared a hefty laugh. "Are you coming to his rescue then?" Holger asked.

Gilbert slammed Markus's phone onto the counter, the entire restaurant going quiet. "He's a talented musician and his band doesn't produce absolute shit music like what you listen to, Markus." He looked around, the few patrons there were at this hour looking nervously over at the albino behind the bar. He lowered his voice. "And the only reason you think they're stupid is because Nora likes them more than she likes you shitting out _Edelweiss_ on your guitar for your anniversary every damn year."

Holger laughed again, bigger this time. He threw his head back and threw his fist into the counter to catch himself. Markus reached over their manager's shoulder and grabbed his phone from underneath Gilbert's fingers and retreated into the kitchen. Gilbert leaned backwards with a sigh, feeling satisfied but not happy.

When his boss had finished his laughing fest, he wiped his eyes. "Oh, Beilschmidt. Always quick to respond." He lumbered out of his chair, sighing as he leaned over the counter. "Anyways, Gilbert. I was thinking that maybe we could use this opportunity to get more people in the door. Now that we have a celebrity working here…"

"I'm not a celebrity." He interrupted firmly.

"…well, somebody with notoriety. I wouldn't hesitate to give you a pay raise if you wanted to name-drop us in whatever sort of celebrity thing you're doing." Holger reached over and patted Gilbert on the back. "Just think about it." He left Gilbert with that thought as he approached the cash register near the exit. Maybe Gilbert would think about it. Not that he didn't have enough to think about already.

The day was finally here. Gilbert had slept for less than two hours, but his nerves were keeping him just as awake as caffeine would. He was about to lie to the world about his new relationship, and Roderich was going to help him. There was a lot of money at stake. And while Ludwig made breakfast, he stared at the wall and imagined all the possible ways that he could mess this up.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he jumped out of his seat. He exhaled as he removed it and placed it on the table.

 _New message from Roderich:_

Elizabeta and I will pick you up in fifteen minutes.

His heartrate increased further. It was really happening. It wasn't in his head anymore. His phone buzzed again.

 _New message from Roderich:_

:)

"Fuck off." He said aloud.

He had just finished washing his plate when the doorbell rang. He took a deep breath and approached the door slowly. He unlatched it and opened it slowly, Roderich and Elizabeta waiting behind it. " _Guten morgen,"_ Gilbert said.

To his surprise, Elizabeta stepped forward to hug him. "It's so nice to meet you in person!" She said, squeezing him tight. Her accent was understandable but present, and she immediately used the informal 'you' with him. She hadn't talked this way in her emails or over the video call.

He was unsure how to react, so he gently placed his hands on her back. He looked at Roderich for guidance, but his musician friend was looking off to the side, probably lost in whatever song he was writing. "It's nice to meet you too," he said, using the informal in response.

She stepped back to look him in the eye. "You're probably nervous." She said, reading his mind. "But don't be. This is nothing. They're just going to ask you a couple of questions and you have to be sappy with them, and we will all have drinks afterwards."

Gilbert cracked a small smile. "If you say so. You know more than I do."

Her smile suddenly vanished into nothing, replaced with a staunch grimace and furrowed brows. "And Herr Beilschmidt," she put a hand on his bicep. "If you ever, ever do anything to Roderich. I will have you killed."

Gilbert paused. "I'm sorry?"

"You will be." She said quietly. Her confident smile suddenly returned as she grabbed his arm and headed back down the front steps to the street. "First interviews are always fun. I can't wait."

Shaken to his core, Gilbert followed them to the car waiting in front of his apartment. She opened the door to the back seat and motioned for the men to get inside, and closed the door behind them before she jumped into the front and began giving directions to the driver.

Gilbert looked over at Roderich, hoping for some sort of reassurance. But Roderich looked the same as ever. Relatively expressionless, waiting for something to happen. "Is she always so chivalrous?" He said quietly.

Roderich looked over, his eyes glancing to the side. "Yes, she is."

Gilbert hadn't had the time to notice him much in the few moments they had been together today. But now that they were in such close quarters, he looked his soulmate over. He was wearing his usual purple coat, but his hair was unusually flawless. Not that Roderich didn't usually take care of his hair, but today every imperfection had been combed out. He wasn't sure, but he could've been wearing foundation, too. Every inch of his face was picture perfect. Gilbert felt rather humbled. He had run a hairbrush through his hair this morning, but perhaps he should've gone to the same lengths that Roderich had. He couldn't even think of anything to continue the conversation with.

"You look… nice today." Gilbert said.

"What?" Roderich said, looking back at him for the first time today. "Oh. Thank you. As do you."

Gilbert laughed. "I don't look like I'm ready to be a model, though. You're ready for a photoshoot or something."

Roderich turned just slightly pink. "Well. Ah. I don't…" He stopped. "I took some extra measures with my hair."

"I can tell."

"It looks nice?"

"Oh yeah. It really does look like you're going to pose for a magazine picture or something."

"Well… good," Roderich said, looking out the window. "I wanted it to look as nice as yours."

Gilbert scoffed. "What?"

"Your hair always looks very put-together." Roderich looked down, and then back at his soulmate. "Mine is very messy, usually. It's quite thick and it doesn't like to obey."

Gilbert was completely stunned. How could Roderich think that? Gilbert barely touched his hair when he woke up for the day. Roderich's always looked so naturally in-place. "I think your hair always looks good, Roderich."

Roderich smiled and looked back down, as if he had never received a compliment in his life. "Well… thank you."

Gilbert had been looking at Roderich for so long that he hadn't noticed Elizabeta watching them in the mirror. "That's so cheesy. You guys have nothing to worry about. Just pretend to like each other, just like that, for the rest of the day."


	13. Chapter 13

It was the longest car ride of his entire life, Gilbert thought. His road trip to Belgium after graduation wasn't nearly as long as this ten-minute drive to _DerKlatschTratsch_ headquarters in Postdamer platz. When the car was finally parked, Elizabeta paid the driver in cash before jumping at the opportunity to open Gilbert's door. She did so with a smile and a pat on his shoulder.

"Don't be nervous," she said. "This will be fun!"

Gilbert was hesitant to agree, but he decided that he'd better hide it as best as he can. He smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, sure." He said nonchalantly, hoping that his false confidence would turn into reality.

Roderich, on the other hand, was completely undisturbed by the situation. As he stepped out of the car, he adjusted his sleeve cuffs without a word or expression. Gilbert watched as the wind caught his hair just enough to move one side, but not enough to destroy the work he had clearly put into it. He couldn't help but think that he was rather handsome.

Roderich sighed as he took a step next to Gilbert on the sidewalk, and turned to meet his gaze. "This won't be anything crazy," Roderich reaffirmed. "A few simple questions, I'm sure."

"I'll trust you, _Wienerblut._ " Gilbert said, stepping forward and pushing the glass door open for Roderich and Elizabeta.

Once they stepped inside, they both gave a quick thank you before immediately being surrounded by employees. Three different girls approached Roderich, asking if they could get him anything. Roderich seemed rather familiar with this, as he showed no signs of discomfort at being swarmed. "Whatever coffee you have, with cream and sugar, please. Thank you."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows, surprised at Roderich's casual nature. One of the girls then turned to him expectantly. "Anything I can get for you, sir?"

"Uh, no thanks." He said, the feeling of being waited on so personally a bit awkward for his tastes. He turned to look at the interior of the building, never having paid attention to it during his trips to Potsdamer platz. The walls were hospital-white, lined with orange neon lights near the ceiling. _DerKlatschTratsch_ 's logo was plastered on the wall facing the glass doors, surrounded by autographed photos of celebrities in thin white frames. Gilbert took a step forward to view the various names and faces, noticing a few and unfamiliar with others. Several American musicians: Lady Gaga, Rihanna, and Beyonce were immediately noticeable. He recognized the faces of some movie actors, both German and not. He smiled to himself as his eyes stopped on an old picture of Rammstein. It was a photo of the band on their tour from several years ago, and each member had signed it in silver marker.

And right beside it, a photo of _Die Nummerierten,_ posed perfectly for a black-and-white photo shoot, perhaps for an album cover. The five band members stood in a row, and while Roderich didn't know them by name, he recognized Roderich on the far right. They stood shoulder to shoulder, each holding in their hands a Star of David necklace. All five had signed it, and had written a string numbers underneath their names. Gilbert read the signatures, trying to figure out which band member was which.

After a moment, Roderich approached him. "That was a good album," he said with certainty. "I'm quite proud of it."

Gilbert silently wondered why he'd never listened to Roderich's band before. He had heard them on the radio, but he had never gone out of his way to actively listen. He stared straight ahead at the album cover, contemplating. "What are the numbers?" he asked.

There was a brief but heavy pause before Roderich answered. "My numbers are my maternal grandparent's prisoner tattoos from Mauthausen. The others' numbers belonged to family members. We always include them in our signatures."

Lost for words, Gilbert stood in silence. Not an awkward silence, he thought, but one of solidarity and understanding.

Another moment passed before Gilbert was tapped on the shoulder and greeted with a semi-familiar woman's face. "You must be the _legendary_ Gilbert!" She said, kissing his cheeks. "I'm Frida, and it is absolutely _wonderful_ to meet you." As she spoke her hands mirrored her excitement, moving wildly about.

Surprised, Gilbert took a moment to process. "It's great to meet you."

Frida made her way in between the two men and put her hands on their shoulders. "We are just so excited that you are here. We can't _wait_ for this interview to get out there. People are dying to know just who Gilbert really is! I'm telling you, that photo from your museum trip has just blown everybody away. What a story this is!"

Roderich smiled politely, clearly not bothered by her verbal explosion. Gilbert watched his expression, doing his best to fake his confidence alongside Roderich's manners.

Frida led them down the white and orange hallway and turned a corner, speaking the whole time about the latest whatever. Gilbert couldn't care less. They passed several small offices and a conference room, each decorated in the same modern style to match the lobby. Finally, she brought them to a large, open room with professional-quality lights and three matching chairs. There were also two giant black and silver cameras, one pointed at two chairs and the other facing an individual one. There were three free-standing microphones hovering above each of the chairs, waiting to record their every word. It felt like a well-lit interrogation room, Gilbert thought, but this was where the magic would happen. Several people stood around the room, checking equipment and talking amongst themselves.

"Good morning everyone! Our guests of honor have arrived!" Frida announced, and everybody turned to clap and cheer. Gilbert was enjoying the positive attention, but still felt a touch awkward. He wasn't sure that he deserved this fame. He turned and noticed Elizabeta in the corner, talking privately to a man in a suit. He was a middle-aged man who didn't match the rest of the young, casually-dressed employees. When he turned back to look at Roderich, he was already in a chair, his left foot propped up on his right knee, sipping a coffee that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Gilbert, would you like to take a seat?" Frida asked. "Is there anything else you need before we begin?" She sat down in the chair across from Roderich, with an unreadable piece of paper resting in her lap.

He blinked, looking between her and Roderich. "Uh, nope. Let's do this." He took a seat next to Roderich, their elbows bumping each other on the arm rests.

Frida opened her mouth to speak, but it was Roderich who cut her off. "Frida, Gilbert's never done anything like this before." His tone was uncharacteristically charming. Suddenly, Gilbert felt a hand on his knee. He looked down, seeing Roderich's fingers gently placed on his leg. He wasn't quite sure what he thought of the action – remembering how just a few days ago Roderich had grabbed his hand. But this was just as intimate of an action, and he wasn't sure how much of this he was putting on for Frida and how much could be… genuine. He looked up in surprise at Roderich, who was still focused on the woman in front of them. "Do you think you could talk him through what we're doing?"

She grinned wide, her whole face just beaming almost unnaturally. "Oh, absolutely." She turned to face Gilbert. "You don't need to be nervous. We're just going to ask you a few questions about your relationship. And don't worry about the cameras, just talk to me like you would anyone else!"

Gilbert nodded once slowly, with a smile. "Sounds easy enough." Roderich removed his hand from Gilbert's knee.

She held her hand out and laughed. "Super easy, I promise." She turned to face the camera crew; each of them gave her a thumbs up. She turned back, readjusted her position in her chair, and looked between the two men. "Alright, we're rolling!"

Frida threw her long, dark hair over her shoulder and turned to Roderich. "Alright, Roderich, we'll start with you. How is Berlin treating you this time around?"

He smiled, tilting his head and speaking with the same charming voice as before. "Berlin is lovely, as always. It is like a second home to me. I've stopped counting the number of trips I've taken, especially since I've been coming to see Gilbert." He turned to Gilbert and smiled an unfamiliar smile.

"And Gilbert, are you from Berlin?" She asked.

"Yeah, I've lived here my whole life," he said. Hearing no immediate reply, he added, "I love it here."

"Have you ever been to Vienna?"

"Uh, no, but I think it would be fun to go." He knew he needed to play up their relationship, so he leaned back and raised his eyebrows at Roderich. "Maybe you can take me on a tour of your hometown?"

His… friend smiled in return. "I was thinking that we ought to do that. Maybe next month during Christmastime?"

Frida grinned. "So, okay, how did you two meet?"

"Well…" "It was…" The two men began at the same time, and then looked at the other. Gilbert held out a hand, hoping that Roderich would do the talking at first. "Go ahead."

Roderich looked back at Frida. "It was very late at night, I had just come from a _Musikfest_ afterparty, and Gilbert had just finished at work. So, the two of us just happened to be the only people at _Nollendorfplatz_. I asked him, 'When is the next train coming?' and he said 'Soon, hopefully.' I was so tired that I didn't realize I had heard my Words until after his train had left!" Gilbert watched as Roderich subconsciously wrapped his right hand around his left wrist.

Frida laughed. "How crazy! And Gilbert, your side of the story?"

Gilbert noticed that Roderich had failed to mention that he was lost, but he also noticed that he hadn't really said anything untrue. He hadn't been sure if Roderich was going to lie about their meeting, not that he would have any reason to. But he sure seemed to be okay with putting on a face for the cameras. This… amiable man was not the same man that he had come to know. Not that Roderich's speech and behavior showed any consistency.

"Well, that's basically it, I mean…" he looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall anything else that Frida, or the public, would want to know. "I was pretty tired, too, I didn't even think about my Words until I was on the train and I saw Roderich wave his arm in the air." He frowned as a feeling of desperation filled his chest; it was the same one that he felt when he first remembered their first conversation, thinking that he would never again speak with his Soulmate. "I, uh, actually went back to _Nollendorfplatz_ to try and find him, but he had already left."

Roderich suddenly turned to look at him, his tone and face changing completely. "You did?" His expression softened slightly. "You… never told me that."

Frida didn't have time for their revelations, and she soldiered on. "And then the next morning, you and I talked about your meeting," she looked down at the paper in her lap. "Are you still working on that symphony?"

Gilbert felt slightly exposed. Roderich had no way of knowing that Gilbert had seen that interview. "Yes, I am," he answered.

"And what do you think of it, Gilbert?" Frida asked.

He pretended to be caught off-guard. Maybe it would make the interview more interesting – and wasn't that what they wanted?

"Think of what? I mean, I haven't heard any… uh, symphony… stuff."

"Roderich, why don't you tell Gilbert about your project?" she prompted. The look on her face was as excited as a child receiving a present on Christmas.

Roderich's cheeks turned pink; he was definitely still thinking about Gilbert's comment, and hadn't mentally caught up with the conversation. "Well… Gilbert." He began, and looked him in the eye. "I'm dedicating my next symphony… to you."

Hearing it from him in person was entirely different from hearing it in a video, especially now that they were no longer strangers. Gilbert felt his face flush, and he smiled, just embarrassed enough to let it show. "I… uh…" So much for wanting to just be friends, he thought.

Frida laughed. "You too are _just_ too cute!" She glanced down at her paper again before turning her whole body to face Gilbert.

"So. Gilbert, why did you wait so long before you decided to get in touch with your _Soulmate!_ "

Uh-oh, Gilbert thought. He hadn't remotely anticipated this. Anxiety built up in his sternum, and he didn't know how to answer. There was no way that he could tell Frida, and however many people that would watch this, that he had already heard his first and last words that night. That his reluctance to communicate with Roderich was out of disbelief that they would ever see each other again.

"I was… um… nervous?" He said, not even convincing himself. She wouldn't like that answer. He swore he heard Roderich sigh, but Frida showed no reaction to it.

She laughed. "Oh, that's not true. Tell me why! Is there somebody else in your life that made you a little weary of a new relationship?"

"No!" He raised his voice in defense. "I… um… I just thought that fate would bring us together again eventually." Bullshit, Gilbert thought.

She tilted her head. "But _surely_ you knew about the hashtag. Why drag out your second meeting? You were trending!"

Gilbert crossed one leg over the other, feeling exposed. "I, uh, just don't use social media that much. I didn't actually know about it for a while…"

"Really?" Frida said, her tone changing completely. "Because the day after hashtag-find-Gilbert started trending, you retweeted Rammstein two separate times." She looked down at her paper, and read aloud. " SpitzePreussen retweeted RSprachrohr…"

"Well, I didn't see what was trending…" He fought back.

Her accusatory tone continued; she spoke like a lawyer on a television drama. "Even if you didn't, which isn't very likely considering the layout of Twitter, you are still following Rammstein, who that same day retweeted Die Nummerierten." She looked down again, reading his next sin off to him. " DieNummerierten posted 'Roderich's soulmate is out there and we're still looking #findgilbert' and RSprachrohr retweeted, and said 'helping out our fellow musicians, spread the word, #findgilbert.' So, why didn't you contact him, or anyone?"

Gilbert's charade of confidence was in shambles at his feet. He felt Frida's searing eyes on his face as he looked at the ground in search of answers. "Um…" he said quietly. He glanced up at Roderich, who had transformed into his normal self. His eyes averted away, his smile dissipated into an unemotional line.

"Well?" Frida prompted.

He looked back at Roderich once more before he sighed. "Um… well… that night at _Nollendorfplatz_ ," he began. "I had heard my first and last words from Roderich already."

Everybody in the room, including the camera crew, was completely silent. He wasn't sure what Frida was expecting, but that apparently wasn't it. "What?" She said, untactfully stunned.

Gilbert looked at her in shock, suddenly feeling a bit more in-control. "Well… when I got on the train… Roderich had said, 'Nice to meet you', and…." He pulled up the sleeve of his white jacket and held his wrist out. "Those are my Last Words," he let it sink in for a moment before he glanced back at Roderich. His Soulmate was now looking directly at him, his mouth without emotion but his dark eyes curious and anxious. "And… I was convinced that I would never see him again. I mean what else am I supposed to think?" He laughed, sounding less nervous than he was.

Frida blinked. "…well… that is something." She said, shifting in her seat. Gilbert knew that she was not prepared for that answer. And neither was he.

"So yeah, I waited a long time. But I was paranoid. I was hesitant. I thought that the universe had screwed me over. That I or Roderich would… die before we spoke to each other again. I'd already heard my Last Words. And I didn't want to contact Roderich because I didn't want something to happen to him… since I assumed he had already heard his as well."

Roderich's eyes were wide and focused only on Gilbert. He opened his mouth silently, his gaze unmoving. "I didn't… understand," he finally spoke, rather quietly.

Feeling attacked at Roderich's ignorance, he turned and shot back. "Well you didn't want to hear it when I tried to tell you the first time."

Frida held out a hand, turning to look away from the couple at another person to the side. "Jasmin, we'll cut there," she called out. She looked rather frustrated, but continued and looked back at them. "So, let's move on. Gilbert." She began.

"Yes." He responded, feeling the tension between the three of them rising.

"We had a look into your family history," she started. A sense of impending disaster crowded in Gilbert's head, and the anxiety welled in his chest.

"Sure. Because you had the right to do that."

She ignored his comment and continued reading. "Your grandfather, Maximillian Beilschmidt," she began. His heart pounded in his chest. There was no way that she was about to bring this up. "Was a leader in the Hitler Youth before he began working in the department of the interior during the Nazi regime. He was an avid supporter of the Nuremburg Laws…"

Gilbert interrupted her, feeling angry and guilty and a million other things. "Why is this relevant?"

Frida looked up, and smiled a very different smile. This one was far from genuine, and unlike her previous ones held animosity and aggression. "I just found it interesting, since of course the Nuremburg laws prohibited relationships between Jews and…"

"I know what the Nuremburg laws were." He spat, grabbing the arms of the chair tightly.

"Well then, don't you think that your relationship with Roderich is quite a story…"

"Stop the cameras." Roderich interjected. The man pulled himself from his seat, holding out a hand in front of the nearest camera. "Stop the cameras." He repeated.

Gilbert looked between Roderich and Frida, shocked. The intensity of the situation hadn't quite processed in his mind. What on earth was happening?

"Roderich…" Frida began.

"Ms. Fischer," Roderich interrupted, suddenly very formal and not at all the casual, suave man that he had been just minutes ago. "If you think that you can use Gilbert and I's relationship to romanticize genocide, or discrimination, then I invite you to shove our contract into your own ass."

Gilbert's draw dropped. This was the most heated he had ever seen Roderich. More than their argument at the coffee house, definitely, and more aggressive than he had ever been in any of the interviews Gilbert had seen. This was an assertive Roderich, who stuck to principles. He didn't even have time to feel the weight of Frida's words before Roderich took his hand and dragged him out of the chair.

Her eyebrows furrowed, following Roderich's motion and holding a hand in front of a camera that was already turning away from her. "It's a story," she fired back, "Those were _not_ my intentions…"

"I am not a stupid man," Roderich stated. "You don't think I've seen this before?" Gilbert watched as his head turned to Elizabeta. She was already at the exit, one hand on the door handle and the other holding Roderich's purple coat.

Frida wasn't done. "Our contract…"

"I don't want your money." Roderich pushed her aside, dragging Gilbert along with him. "And if you dare to publish any of this footage, you will face legal consequences. That I will promise you." Elizabeta threw the door open and Roderich stormed through with Gilbert barely following along behind him.

"Roderich," Gilbert said nervously as they made their way into the lobby.

"Please give me a minute," he said, continuing forward. He stopped quite suddenly and Gilbert's chest bumped into his back. Roderich looked towards the wall of autographs, taking a step towards it. He reached forward and yanked _Die Nummerierten_ 's album cover off the nail holding it in place.

Gilbert watched as he held the framed picture underneath his arm and pushed open the glass doors with a single hand, the draft catching his hair and coat. His styled hair now flew free in the wind as he walked around the corner and out of sight.


	14. Chapter 14

Gilbert ran after his companion. He had a feeling that Roderich would get lost in Berlin if he was left unattended, but that wasn't why he followed. What was running through his mind? Was he okay? Gilbert was only beginning to process Frida's remarks, so he had no idea what Roderich was thinking in the moment.

Fortunately, Roderich hadn't gone far. Gilbert spotted his purple coat just down the street, so he ran. It didn't take him long, save for bumping into a few pedestrians, to catch up to him. He put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to turn around.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Roderich looked rather stunned to see him, and blinked before answering. "Yes."

"Okay, because…" Gilbert frowned. "You didn't seem like it."

He paused for a moment, looking around at the cityscape for answers, and sighed. "I just… I did not appreciate the way she was speaking to either of us."

"Yeah, me either."

The two men looked at the ground silently for a moment. Frida's words about his grandfather continued to loop in his mind. He felt so exposed by her snooping. The nerve she had to just… bring any of that up. Like she or any other _Berliner_ didn't have dead relatives who were Nazis. And maybe Gilbert's grandfather was particularly fixed in his radical, ridiculous beliefs, but Gilbert didn't understand why she felt the need to bring any of it up.

Gilbert saw Roderich look up in his peripheral vision. "Gilbert." He said.

He looked up in turn, and Roderich glanced to the side. "Yeah?"

"I'm very sorry I dragged you into this." He seemed unable to make eye contact, but Gilbert was surprised at the genuine nature of his words nonetheless.

"Hey, I mean, you didn't know she was going to… be like that." He shrugged and placed a hand on Roderich's arm for only a second. "None of that was your fault."

"Perhaps not," He said, still looking away. "But I am sorry nonetheless."

There was another minute or so of shared silence. Gilbert desperately wanted to make the situation better, but didn't know where to begin. He was still dwelling on Frida, and knew that Roderich must be too. Finally, he made a decision.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"What?" Roderich asked, turning to him and looking quite confused.

"I mean… that's what I do when somebody pisses me off." He let a small smile escape, feeling one corner of his mouth tighten.

Roderich looked contemplative for a moment. "Sure." He smiled in return.

Gilbert suddenly felt a hand on his back. He stiffened, and turned to see Elizabeta, out of breath.

"Roderich." She said, panting slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't… I didn't know that…"

He put his hands behind his back. "Don't hold yourself responsible. That is not the fault of any of us."

"You're right…" she said, standing up straight, and turned to Gilbert. "I'm sorry that… any of that happened, Gilbert. That's not how those things are supposed to go. Especially with a place like _DerKlatschTratsch._ "

Gilbert laughed. "I guessed that."

Elizabeta seemed relieved at his attitude, and moved her hand to his shoulder. "I'm going to go… sort things out!" She smiled a fake smile. "But you know that neither of you have to go back in there, I'll take care of it."

"Is the car still here?" Roderich asked, leaning forward.

Elizabeta turned to look back in the direction they came from, craning her neck to see the car. "It should be. I asked the driver to wait for us."

"Wonderful," Roderich said, heading back towards the car. "Text me when everything is settled. I'll have him come back to pick you up."

She laughed, apparently finding his request ridiculous. "And where are you going?"

He turned back and looked Gilbert in the eye. "We're going to get a drink."

Roderich paid the driver a second time. Gilbert held the door open for him, following him inside the building. "Welcome to _Der Freischütz_ ," Gilbert said proudly. He was pretty proud of this place. He knew he had put a lot of work into it, not only behind the bar, but into the various remodeling projects that he and Holger had come up with.

"Thank you, sir," Roderich said as he looked around. Gilbert smiled as he took in the dark floors and matching tables, the walls covered in concert posters, and the huge wooden bar with dozens of taps. "You know, _Der Freischütz_ is one of my favorite operas," he commented with a smile. Gilbert was physically taken back. Holger had named his establishment after an opera? He had never bothered to ask about the name before, he just thought it sounded cool. He decided not to ask any questions when Roderich continued. "You work here?"

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, was it not what you expected?" He felt quite a bit more like himself than he did during the interview.

Roderich grinned. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it is very nice. Cozy. A bit like a _Kaffeehaus._ "

Gilbert raised his eyebrows and looked around like he was seeing this place for the first time. "I never thought of it that way, but, yeah, I guess so!"

"Gilbert!" a voice called to him. He turned and saw Holger, waving him down from the bar. He approached, hoping that Roderich would follow.

"Hey, how's the rush today?" He asked, leaning onto the counter.

"Could be worse…" he trailed off, a grin spreading wide across his face as he caught sight of Roderich. "Well, is this him!" It wasn't quite a question.

Gilbert snorted quietly. "Yeah, Holger, this is Roderich. Roderich, this is the owner of _Der Freischütz._ "

"And his boss! He forgets that!" Holger laughed and reached across the counter, his rolled up sleeve catching on a tap for a moment.

Roderich politely reached out and shook his hand. "It's great to meet you."

Holger looked around for a moment. "Hey, we don't have anybody at the moment, mind if I grab the others? Everyone's real excited to meet you."

Roderich blinked in surprise and smiled politely. "Oh, sure."

"Great, wait here!" Holger slammed a hand onto the counter in eagerness. He turned and pushed open the door to the kitchen. His voice was muffled, but his words discernable. "Hey guys! Gilbert's here, he brought his boyfriend!"

Gilbert winced, feeling like a tub of embarrassment had just been dumped on him and was dripping onto the floor. "Um, I never said th…"

Roderich laughed, which stunned Gilbert more than Holger's remark. "It's quite alright."

Moments later, Holger bounded from the kitchen with a small crowd behind him. Markus and a few other familiar faces trailed behind, all of them varying degrees of surprised. Markus especially so, his eyebrows raised and the corners of his mouth pointed downward.

"Hey, everyone, this is Roderich," Gilbert said, feeling an urge to put a hand on Roderich's back or shoulder but resisting it. He took the hand and pointed at each individual person instead. "This is Markus, Fatima, Derrick, and Josef."

There was a semi-awkward chorus of "hellos" as everyone reached over the counter to shake Roderich's hand. Gilbert hoped this wasn't too weird, but these people were his friends and coworkers; Roderich would have to meet them eventually.

Daylight streaked across the bartop as the door to the restaurant opened behind them. "Markus," a woman's voice called. Everyone turned to see a young woman approaching the crowd. She placed her purse on an empty table nearest the counter, and took a seat in front of Holger. She was much shorter than the rest of them, and several years younger than everyone except Markus. Her eyes scanned the crowd as she spoke. "Hey, your mom wants us to go to dinner with her tonight, so…" her eyes looked upwards at Gilbert, and then just to the left of him at Roderich. "Oh my god!" she said rather loudly, her eyes beaming as a hand flew up to cover her mouth.

Gilbert laughed. "Nora, this is Roderich."

"Oh my god!" She said again, hiding her face. "Hi!"

Roderich smiled politely; Gilbert thought he was probably quite used to this behavior. "Hello, Nora, nice to meet you."

"Oh my god, hi," she laughed, holding her hand out nervously. "Wow, sorry, I just…"

Roderich shook her hand once before wrapping his hands around it. "No, you're fine. It's a pleasure to meet you, really."

Nora blinked, a smile permanently glued onto her face. "Oh my god!" She exclaimed again. "Sorry! I… it's you!"

By this time, nearly everyone had gone back to the kitchen, deciding to give Nora her moment. Gilbert glanced over at Markus, who was red in the face. Gilbert thought he was probably thinking of Nora's life-long crush on Roderich, and how she looked like a teenager fangirling over her idol.

Roderich laughed, squeezing her hand. "No need to apologize, I'm quite flattered. I always enjoy meeting fans."

"Oh my god, I've been a huge fan for… years." She looked up and around, barely able to contain herself. "I bought a poster at your first concert in Leipzig and it's just. One of my favorite things. Oh my god. Could I… sorry, this is probably rude, could I have a picture with you?"

Roderich shook his head. "Not at all rude, absolutely."

Nora glanced up. "Gil, could you…"

He laughed, secretly glad that he was able to make this happen. "Sure." He took her phone out of her shaking hands, opening the camera.

Roderich held out a hand to her, ushering her closer until their hips were touching and his arm was wrapped comfortably around her shoulder. Gilbert frowned as he took a series of pictures. Roderich hadn't even attempted to get that close to him, his soulmate, but was perfectly comfortable doing whatever one of his adoring fans asked of him.

"Thanks, Gil," she said, ripping the phone out of his hands. She looked back up at Roderich. "And thank you, oh my god." She put a hand on her forehead. "I'm so embarrassed. I just. I love your music."

"And thank _you_ for listening!" He said with a smile. This Roderich was yet another person that Gilbert hadn't met. How many personalities could one man have?

After a few more words that Gilbert was no longer paying attention to, Nora turned back to her boyfriend and began discussing evening plans. Roderich turned back to Gilbert and shifted into a more familiar tone of voice. "So, drinks?"

Gilbert frowned, trying not to dwell on the past few moments any more than he had dwelled on Frida's words. "Yeah, uh… what kind of beers do you like?"

"I like dark beers, but I'll try anything once." He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Just something dark that's on tap."

Feeling much more relieved, Gilbert let a smile show. "Something we both agree on." He turned to Holger, who was already working on glasses for the two of them. He passed the two over the counter, and Gilbert handed one carefully to Roderich. Their fingers barely grazed over each other as Roderich took the glass and led the pair to a table a few feet from the bar.

They each took a minute to sit, Roderich shedding his coat and putting it over the back of the chair. The two men silently leaned back into their seats before sighing and taking sips of their drinks. A moment or two passed before either of them spoke.

"It's quite good." Roderich said, sounding pretty satisfied. "I'm assuming it's local?"

Gilbert nodded as he sipped from his glass. "Yeah, Holger's brother actually brews this. I forgot what he calls it, something like _Wintervogel_?"

"Interesting." He mused, setting his glass on the table.

This was the most casual conversation they had ever shared, Gilbert thought. He wasn't sure if this was the same Roderich from _Nollendorfplatz,_ the museum, from the interview, or from Nora's photo. He enjoyed his company when he knew who he was, but the last few hours had been so up and down that Gilbert scarcely knew himself. He didn't know how to bring this up, either. Clearly he and Roderich were on some sort of familiar level, but the extent of it was foggy at best. It wasn't something you just… brought up to someone, even if you knew them well.

"Gilbert." Roderich said, after a moment of shared silence.

He looked up from the table, pulled from his thoughts. "Yeah?"

He sighed, and slumped just enough for his head to lower an inch or two. "I don't… Your family history doesn't mean anything to me." He stopped, looking surprised. "I don't intend for that to sound rude…"

"No, I know," Gilbert interrupted, hoping to proactively stop anything awkward from happening. "My grandfather was a shitty person. He wasn't a great figure in my life or my dad's," he sipped his beer again. "The only important thing about my family history is to stop his legacy in its tracks."

Roderich nodded. "That's quite thoughtful."

Gilbert shrugged and furrowed his brows. "I don't know about thoughtful so much as it is common sense. I hate that I'm forever tied to his bullshit."

Roderich placed a hand on the table. "I don't think you are," he said. "I was born Jewish. You were not born a racist."

Gilbert looked up. "That's… yeah." He hadn't ever considered it like that. This wasn't something genetic. He inherited his grandfather's history the same way he inherited his grandmother's favorite porcelain teapot. It was ugly, he didn't want it, and it wasn't something that he had to keep.

Roderich looked smugly into his glass. "Besides. Your personal life has already countered so many of his ideals. You work with a girl of Turkish decent, you're openly homosexual to some degree, and you're dating a Jewish man."

Gilbert suddenly stopped in his tracks, his lips on the rim of his glass. "I'm what?" Had he really just heard him say that?

Roderich too, was frozen. His eyes wide behind his glasses, his glass hovering above the table. "I didn't… Gilbert, I…"

He laughed, putting his glass down. "Well, _Wienerblut_ , really let that one loose, didn't you?"

Roderich's face turned bright pink. "Well!" He fought back, but his head turned to the side and his avoidance of eye contact said that he knew he couldn't win.

"You just want to be friends? Isn't that what you said like… days ago?" Gilbert continued, kicking his partner's chair playfully under the table.

"You know, I'm writing you a symphony. So we might as well just…"

"Just what?" Gilbert prompted.

"Just… be a couple." Roderich crossed his arms behind the table, looking off to the side. His face was growing redder by the second.

Gilbert sighed, the end of his laughter trailing off. "Man, I didn't realize that's what it took to be a couple these days in the ole seventeen-hundreds."

"Oh shut up," Roderich said quietly, the smallest hint of a smile escaping.

"You know, _Wienerblut_ ," Gilbert said, feeling more comfortable than he had all day. He took a swig of his beer and set the glass down firmly. "Honestly, I feel like I barely know you. But sure. I'll be your boyfriend." He extended his glass towards his companion, waiting for his response.

Roderich took a minute to compose himself. He took a deep breath and looked Gilbert in the eye, clinking their glasses together. " _Prost_." They said together, and finished their glasses.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

For a few minutes, they shared a conversation with no discernable change in Roderich's personality. Gilbert was more than a little relieved that they had gone this long. It felt like their first genuine interaction since the museum, and they seemed to be enjoying each other's company.

"How is your brother?" Roderich asked.

"Oh, same as always. Still a stick in the mud."

"Is he really?" Roderich wondered aloud. "The only time I met him…"

Gilbert laughed. "Oh yeah, he was super drunk. He's not usually so loud."

"So he's nothing like you?"

"Hey, I'm not…"

"I'm only kidding, Gilbert. But are you two very different?"

Gilbert shrugged and leaned back, trying not to get defensive. "Kinda?" He gave himself a moment to think. "He's got more of a filter than I do, for sure. But for half-brothers, we're pretty similar."

"Your half-brother?" Roderich asked with disbelief.

"Oh, yeah." He rolled his eyes. "We have the same father." It was probably best to leave it at that.

"Were your mother and father soulmates?" Roderich prodded.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. Roderich continued to surprise him with interesting and especially personal outbursts. "No." He said. "I don't think Ludwig's mother was his soulmate either, but it's really hard for me to imagine that father had a soulmate at all," he looked into his glass and smiled. "I probably sound like a terrible person!"

Roderich shrugged just enough to be visible. "I think the same of my parents."

"Do they live in Vienna too?" Gilbert asked, imagining the inevitable day would come when he had to meet his Soulmate's family.

"They've both passed away." Roderich said firmly.

Gilbert paused. "Oh. Uh, sorry."

Roderich shook his head and held up a hand. "Don't be. My life is better without them."

"Damn." He responded quietly, sounding a bit too judgmental.

"It's true. I am finally… happy now that I have learned to live outside of their expectations." Roderich fiddled with his sleeves again, his glasses sliding down his nose.

"That's… good." Gilbert said, wondering what sort of mark his father had left on him. He couldn't think of anything in the moment, but he knew that some remnant of his father's sternness must be leftover.

" _Die Nummerierten_ is my family," Roderich continued. "I celebrate holidays with them and I trust them like the brothers I never had."

"Are you an only child?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

Roderich's phone began buzzing, vibrating against the chair. He brought it up to look at it, sighing. "It's Elizabeta. Let's see what sort of hell I'll have to endure for my little _stunt_." He answered the call and put in on speaker, placing the phone on the table between the two men. " _Ja_?"

"Well, I may have worked something out," Elizabeta sounded exasperated.

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"You may not like it."

"…okay."

"I've knocked them down to a smaller setting. The two of you will just be answering a few questions on the street outside of the building."

"What kind of questions?" Gilbert interjected.

Elizabeta paused, probably surprised to hear him. "She just wants to know how you two met, and what your plans for the future are."

The two men exchanged a glance. Gilbert was a man who lived in the present most of the time. The future was far away and he hadn't considered spending it with… anyone.

"And what about payment?" Roderich asked.

Elizabeta scoffed. "You really think they're going to pay you after that stunt you pulled?" She asked quite accusingly. "I'm just trying not to get us in legal trouble for breaching contract!"

Roderich looked up at Gilbert, his eyes wide. He silently mouthed the words " _you see_?" Gilbert had to stifle a laugh.

"I know that she was out of line, Roderich," Elizabeta continued with a sigh. "But blowing up on her was probably not the smartest move."

"I'm not going to ask Gilbert to do anything for their cameras if there is no money involved. That isn't fair to him."

"Hey, wait," Gilbert said, jumping to the edge of his seat. "If they aren't going to pay us, can they at least meet us at a different location?"

Roderich looked curiously over at his… _boyfriend_ , and Elizabeta spoke for him. "What did you have in mind?"

" _Guten tag,_ viewers," Frida said into the camera with an overexaggerated smile. "Welcome to a very special Friday with Frida. I'm here with Roderich Edelstein from _Die Nummerierten_ and a very special guest!"

Gilbert watched the camera man take a step back to view the three of them, him and Roderich side by side against the glass window of _Der Freischütz._

"This is Gilbert Beilschmidt, the newly-found soulmate of our favorite Austrian songwriter!"

Gilbert waved at the camera childishly. " _Hallo!_ "

"So Roderich, how did the two of you meet?" Frida began, holding out the microphone in front of him.

Roderich glanced over at Gilbert before answering. "We just both happened to be at the same _U-Bahn_ station very late at night. I had just come from an afterparty, and Gilbert had just finished the closing shift here at _Der Freischütz_ here in Berlin." Gilbert reached back and knocked on the glass window gently before Roderich continued. "It was very late, we were both so tired that we didn't realize that we had heard our First Words."

Frida laughed. "How incredible!" She turned to Gilbert, the same fierce eyes as before. "And Gilbert," she began. "The question that _everyone_ wants to know," she leaned into the word as if her earlier invasive investigation justified it. "What took you so long to reply?"

Gilbert smiled at her and proceeded to lie through his teeth like an expert. "You know, I just was a little nervous! I mean, I had just met a celebrity, who also happened to be my soulmate. I didn't want to embarrass myself, and I knew it would be a lot of attention…"

Frida cut him off, taking the microphone out of his range. "Roderich, will you be spending more time in Berlin?"

Roderich smiled. "Absolutely. I have a feeling we will be bringing a lot of concerts here. But of course Gilbert has to come visit Vienna, as well."

Frida grinned, looking between the two of them. "And what are your plans for the future, gentlemen?"

Gilbert leaned forward to catch the microphone before Roderich did. "Well, we're just going to play it by ear."

She laughed and turned back to face the camera, the wind catching her hair. "And there you have it, viewers, the mystery of the year solved! Tell us what _you_ think with the hashtag 'found gilbert', and be sure to follow _Der KlatschTratsch_ on Twitter and Instagram! Until next time!" She smiled until the camera was lowered, and then her face shifted immediately into a deeply unsatisfied frown.

"Thank you for this compromise, Ms. Fischer," Roderich said amiably.

"If I get a bucket of tweets asking why Friday with Frida was cut short, the blame is on your shoulders, Edelstein." She shot back, handing the microphone to the intern in the back seat of the business's car.

"Good thing nobody watches your segment, then," Roderich began nonchalantly. "Otherwise I'm _sure_ that would be quite the responsibility."

She fumed, throwing her scarf into the front seat of the car. She had nothing to retort with, so she plopped herself down in the seat. "Let's go," she spat at the driver. The camera man barely had time to get himself in the car before they drove away.

As soon as they pulled out of the parking space, Gilbert laughed and put a hand on Roderich's shoulder. "You are full of surprises, _Wienerblut_."

He turned and beamed at him, looking rather accomplished. "I suppose the music industry has taught me to stay on my toes."

Elizabeta opened the doors behind them, wrapping her arms around their shoulders. "What a day it has been, and it's barely noon," she sighed. "I'm sure they got less than what they wanted."

Gilbert smiled down at her, the small victory feeling pretty rewarding to him. "Doesn't matter, I had fun."

"I'm glad!" She exclaimed. "Gilbert, did you want a ride home?"

"Actually, Elizabeta," Roderich interjected. "Gilbert and I are going to… stay out a little longer."

"We are?" Gilbert asked.

"I assumed so. Is that… alright?"

"Uh, yeah, sure!"

Elizabeta took a moment to process before smiling smugly. "I see, I see. Well, I'll head back to the hotel. Call me when you're done." She patted Roderich's chest before turning and walking down the street to the car once again.

"So," Gilbert said plainly. "Where to?"

Roderich looked around at the skyline for a moment before turning back to Gilbert. "Lunch?"


	16. Chapter 16

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Merry Christmas, everyone! Again, thank you all for reading, even as I pump out new material daily. Christmas is here and my family is coming to town so it may be a few days, but I've been pretty nice with the updates if I do say so myself lol.

ALSO. The lovely person Helloweeny made a Spotify playlist based on this fic, and I am absolutely humbled. I can't believe that someone would do something so amazing for my story!

Here is a link, if you want to listen! I think it's a great mix of stuff, a lot of which I've referenced in the story. user/1198417107/playlist/7LjVPDWYTndYvLX0jyGsan?si=ITc-GrcTQXKWs4T3mCPKkg

If only Die Nummerierten were a real band, I'm sure their music would be here too. Maybe I'll write some songs in what I imagine their style to be. But that's just one more thing to do lol. We will see.

As always thank you so very much for your kind comments, please keep them coming! I read each one with love 3

"I'm not a fancy meal kinda guy," Gilbert said as he handed Roderich a plate. "But damned if I don't know my _Currywurst_."

Roderich looked curiously back at him, as if he had just said something ridiculous. "You know, we have _Currywurst_ in Vienna…"

"Yeah," Gilbert rolled his eyes. "But that's bullshit _Currywurst_." He pointed at the plate, hoping to exaggerate his point. " _This_ is the best recipe in Berlin. Or anywhere. I wouldn't lie to you." He stepped to the side, letting the next person in line take their place.

Roderich followed him, and the two leaned against the nearby fence, side by side. "You've never been to Vienna, so your claim has no basis in truth nor experience."

"Yeah, well," Gilbert rolled his eyes and stuck the tiny fork into a piece of sausage and put it in his mouth. "You try this and tell me otherwise."

Still looking rather unconvinced, Roderich followed suit, taking a bite off of his own plate. He chewed for a moment in silence, looking down at the plate in dissatisfaction. "Hmm." He hummed quietly.

"You don't like it?" Gilbert exclaimed, feeling personally attacked immediately. Did he genuinely dislike it?

"It's delicious." Roderich said flatly.

Gilbert laughed nervously. "Then why do you look so upset!"

He didn't respond, but rather took another bite. "I'm not."

Suddenly, Gilbert came to the realization: "It's because I'm right!"

"What!" Roderich exclaimed.

"This _is_ better!" He laughed.

"…I didn't say that!"

"Well you're not denying it!"

"I…!" Roderich looked back at him with a frown, clearly not able to draft an argument fast enough.

Gilbert nudged his companion's side as he stuffed his face with another bite. "Mhmm. That's what I thought."

Roderich grinned in a way that he probably thought was subtle. "It _might_ be better."

"Is that the best answer I'm going to get out of you?" He laughed.

Roderich glanced up at him. "…yes."

Satisfied enough with his own taunting, Gilbert took a few more bites, just enjoying their time together. This moment of shared silence was as comfortable as it was on their first meeting. Breathing in the cold air, standing side by side, and enjoying the city scape: Gilbert thought it was pretty damn picturesque. And they were luckily in the shade – so he didn't have to keep his sunglasses on for their entire conversation.

"Excuse me, sir," a woman's voice said to their left. They both turned to see a skinny, middle-aged woman in a dark coat. Standing just behind her and apparently glued to her leg was a young girl, hiding her face but clearly embarrassed. "I don't mean to interrupt you during your lunch…"

Roderich turned his entire body to face them, giving them his complete attention. "No, how can I help you?"

Gilbert's first instinct told him that they were about to ask directions from what looked like a local, but their actual response was a little more surprising.

"Are you that guy from that Austrian band?"

" _Mom…_ " the girl said quietly, embarrassed as ever.

Roderich smiled a wide smile, as if he was about to laugh. "Well, I am _a_ guy from an Austrian band…"

"My daughter is a big fan of yours," the woman began, trying to push her daughter forward. "Would it be alright if she got a picture with you?"

He knelt just enough to match the girl's eye level. "Of course," he said politely. "What's your name?"

She barely peaked from behind her mom's coat, revealing a bright red face. Her mom finally nudged her forward enough to bring her completely out of hiding. Her voice was small and fast, full of nerves. "Sofia Freudenberger… my mom's name is Lisa." She added on quickly.

"And Ms. Freudenberger," Roderich so graciously continued. "Shouldn't you be in school today?"

Sofia spoke very quietly; she was definitely very shy and very overwhelmed. "It's my birthday, so mom took me shopping today…"

"Really? And how old are you, Ms. Freudenberger?"

"Twelve…"

He took her hand very gently smiled softly. "Well, happy birthday." Her eyes widened, as if they were going to explode out of her head. "Would you like to take a picture?"

She nodded wildly and silently.

"Give me just one moment," he said, turning back to Gilbert. "Could you hold this for a moment, please Gilbert?" He held up his plate of _Currywurst_ to him, and Gilbert took it without a word. This was a very interesting interaction and he didn't want to interrupt it.

Sofia's mother had already taken out her cell phone and was ready to snap a picture. Roderich stood, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder and bending just slightly so that he could fit in the frame with her. Gilbert stepped out of the way, and watched Roderich's smile outweigh Sofia's. She looked far too nervous to do anything more than half of a curved line on her pursed lips.

She took several pictures before Sofia decided that she had enough. The girl covered her eyes, completely embarrassed by her mother's behavior. "Okay, mom, stop…!" The mother laughed, stepping forward to thank Roderich.

"Hold on, before you go, Ms. Freudenberger," Roderich said, digging into the pocket of his purple coat. He pulled out a strip of paper, looking over both sides. "It's not very fancy, hope you don't mind my coffee receipt. Do you by chance have a pen?" He looked up at the mother.

"Oh!" She said, reaching into her purse. "I sure do!" She dug for a moment before producing a black ink pen and handing it over to him.

Roderich took it graciously, and bent over just enough to use his thigh as a writing surface. He signed his name in the most beautiful script, and then wrote his string of numbers beneath it. Sofia watched his actions with wide eyes, and stared down at the paper as he placed it in her hands.

"I know your grandparent's numbers," she said thoughtfully.

Roderich's entire mood suddenly seemed to shift. He stopped being the man appeasing his fans, and returned to being the serious man Gilbert was on a date with. "I will never forget them. They are very important numbers."

"I know." Sofia said quietly. "I learned my great-grandma's numbers too." She took the pen from his hands quite suddenly, and flipped the receipt over and wrote her own string of numbers.

All three of the adults seemed greatly surprised at her actions. Gilbert most of all. Was this… a normal interaction for Roderich? And this little girl was really mature for someone who just turned twelve.

"Don't forget them." Roderich said firmly. "It is our job to keep them, so that nobody ever again must wear them on their skin."

Sofia nodded. "Yes." She said quietly.

Roderich broke out a smile once more. "Well, Ms. Freudenberger. Have a wonderful birthday. And thank you for listening to our music."

" _How to Dance_ is my favorite song!" She suddenly said as her mom put a hand on her back. Now the girl, loose from her shell, spoke at a million miles an hour. "And my friend Clara wants to marry you! She always writes the lyrics to " _Polyrhythmik"_ on her arm and pretends it's her First Words, because those are the first words that _you_ sing on " _Sterne Werden_." But I told her that she's only ten so that's just not realistic."

Gilbert failed to hold back the whole laugh that he was suppressing. Roderich too, seemed to be barely holding himself together. "Sofia, we need to let these gentlemen get back to their lunch. Did you say thank you?"

"Thank you!" She shouted, unable to take her eyes off of Roderich. He waved back at her as the mom also gave her thanks.

As soon as they were out of sight, the musician sighed and leaned back against the fence. "Children." He said plainly, reaching for his plate in Gilbert's hands. "Thank you."

Gilbert laughed. "That's all you have to say?"

Roderich ate quite a bit more before responding, refusing to talk with anything in his mouth. "What else is there to say?"

Gilbert scoffed. "I mean. You guys are her heroes. She knows your deeply-personal family history. You inspired her to get into… genealogy. Her friend wants to _marry_ you!" He laughed and nudged his side again, the idea of Roderich being swarmed by fangirls a bit hilarious.

"If I had one euro for every girl in German-speaking Europe that wanted to marry one of us, we could finance our next tour." He said without hesitation, as if it was factual.

"Woah, getting cocky." Gilbert said in fake surprise.

"I think I've worked hard enough with the boys to be a little full of myself," Roderich remarked. "That being said." He picked up a single fry. "She and her friend must be super fans, if she can recognize me."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"Wolf and Jonas are the lead singers, so they get the most attention from teenage girls," he stated, staring, probably debating whether or not to eat the now-cold fry. "They're also conventionally attractive, so for her friend to have picked _me_ as her favorite is quite endearing."

Gilbert laughed. "What?" He said in disbelief. Did Roderich not think… did he not _know_ that he was… handsome? Gilbert allowed himself the word. He had thought it before, no shame in thinking it now.

"What?" Roderich asked, confused.

"I mean, not to be weird, _Wienerblut,_ " he began, leaning just a little closer into Roderich's side. "But if I were a teenage girl who listened to a boyband…"

"…we aren't a boyband…" he said disapprovingly.

"…I would definitely have a crush on the band member with the best looks _and_ the most talent…"

"…Jonas is a virtuosic guitarist, _Groove_ called him 'Austrian Hendrix'…"

"…And if _one_ of them was a classically trained musician…"

"… _Mendel_ has a performance degree in Bass…"

"…oh my god, _Wienerblut,_ shut up, I'm trying to flirt with you!" He found himself saying, quite exasperated. He was only slightly surprised by his own words, but decided that he might as well roll with it. He had gone this far.

Roderich, however, was bright red in the face, shocked by his deliberate words. "I…" He stuttered.

"Yeah, I think you're handsome, so…" Gilbert laughed, unsure where to go from there. "I'm sure you have just as many fangirls as Wolf and Johann…"

"…Jonas…"

"…and if _I_ were a teenage girl I would definitely have a poster of _you_ in my room."

Roderich brought a hand up to his face, covering his eyes, now embarrassed on two fronts. "You could not have made that any worse."

Gilbert hesitated for a moment before slowly wrapping his arm around his shoulder, pulling his blushing boyfriend closer. Even with Roderich's bulky purple coat on, it felt like he belonged there, tight against his side. "I did say not to be weird, so…"


	17. Chapter 17

The act of aimlessly strolling the city with your significant other had never occurred to Gilbert as a date-like activity. But here they were, newly-appointed boyfriends with no real plans and no place to go. He almost felt bad, not showing off his city to Roderich. But he didn't expect to make a day of their meeting, nor did he expect to clock out of the day with a boyfriend. He had pointed out a few things about Berlin, mostly historical things that he looked into over his life. And he could tell that Roderich was genuinely interested, since he seemed to be listening quite intently, and he didn't seem like the kind of person who would pretend to enjoy something he didn't care about.

Gilbert had noticed that over the few hours they had been together, Roderich seemed to grow more comfortable with lessening the space between them. He leaned in towards Gilbert when he pointed things out about architecture or history, and stood close to him when they stopped to look at the scenery. Gilbert had to admit that he was enjoying the closeness, especially when his new boyfriend seemed to flip the switch sporadically on how emotionally distant he would be.

There was the issue of whether or not he actually _liked_ Roderich… he wasn't quite sure how he felt. He definitely enjoyed his company and found him attractive, but the spark of a… c _rush,_ for lack of a better word, wasn't as present as he thought it should be. He thought it over as they walked, wondering if it was because it felt as though Roderich didn't like him.

But that was stupid, he thought. Roderich is the one that implied they were boyfriends, he's the one who was pushing to be closer to him. But Roderich also just days ago wanted to be friends… even after the weeks-long period of unsuccessfully trying to find him. He was a very confusing man – and Gilbert wondered if he _really_ should've started a relationship with someone he barely knew. Just because you know a lot about someone doesn't mean you really know them, he thought.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert looked up quite suddenly, seeing Roderich peering at him over his glasses. He was holding his cell phone in his ungloved hand, his thumb hovering expectantly above the screen.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"What?" He blinked. "Uh… no, sorry…"

Roderich raised an eyebrow in disapproval. "I said, they've published Friday with Frida…"

His heart raced. "That was quick." Here it was. His name would finally be out there, for everyone to see.

Roderich sighed. "They are rather fast, but usually her segment airs in the evening. I suppose that if there isn't a lot of footage to edit, the process goes much faster."

"Oh… yeah." Gilbert said quietly.

Roderich blinked. "Do you want to watch it?"

Gilbert's entire body tensed. "Might as well." He took a step closer to Roderich, their sides once again meeting. Roderich held the phone out between the two of them as they waited for their fates to be sealed on screen.

 _DerKlatschTratsch's_ logo faded after a couple seconds on screen, leading right into Frida's face staring right into the camera. It was surreal, watching their interaction from mere hours ago play out. Gilbert was silently glad that the editor had left in their less-than-subtle advertisement for _Der Freischütz._ He had never seen himself on camera before… well, not this high quality of footage. Filming yourself drunk at your friend's birthday party was a very different game. He thought he looked quite different than he did in the mirror – his hair was white, but less translucent than he thought it was. And his eyes were not quite so noticeably red.

"And there you have it, viewers, the mystery of the year solved! Tell us what _you_ think with the hashtag 'found gilbert', and be sure to follow _Der KlatschTratsch_ on Twitter and Instagram! Until next time!" The video ended almost ominously with Frida's smiling face.

Roderich raised his eyebrows and looked up at Gilbert. "That wasn't so bad."

"Did you think it was going to be?"

"It's impossible to tell, most times. I'm quite relieved that they didn't alter the footage." He scrolled down, revealing the comments that were already pouring in.

With each new refresh of the page, Gilbert felt his heart beat faster. First there were twenty, and now fifty, and now a hundred comments. "I don't think you were right when you said nobody watched the show, _Wienerblut_ ," he said quite nervously. Most comments were short and inconsequential, others were from female fans lamenting about Roderich's new relationship. A few brief comments mentioned that they thought Gilbert was rather attractive. Most people seemed to be pretty happy with the interview despite it's short length. "But I don't think anybody cares that it was shorter than normal."

Roderich closed his phone and pocketed it, looking back up at Gilbert. "I think you are right." He said simply.

The two faced each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. Gilbert thought the moment bordered awkwardness and camaraderie. Now the internet knew about his identity, but he wasn't sure to what extent he would be famous. Not everybody in Berlin listened to _Die Nummerierten_ , but he wasn't sure whether to expect people to flock to him asking for pictures.

"So," Roderich began, standing up straight. "Like I said, we are starting our next tour quite soon."

Gilbert squared his shoulders to match, but felt a bit confused. "Uh, you never said that. You said something about paying for your next tour, but…"

"…which begins in a few days."

Gilbert paused. "Where are you going?"

"We're starting in Vienna, but we will be going through Salzburg, Innsbruck, Zurich, Geneva, Munich, Berlin, Leipzig…" He trailed off. "We're stopping in Milan, too. We've never toured outside of German-speaking Europe though. So that's exciting..." He sounded only mildly enthused.

"…Wait… how long is this tour?" Gilbert interrupted.

"Not very long. Three weeks or so."

"So you're just going to disappear for three weeks?" he said quite angrily.

"Excuse me?" Roderich said, as if Gilbert had just insulted him.

"You just ask me to date you and then disappear for three weeks?" He crossed his arms.

"I did not _ask_ you to date me." Roderich spoke like a teenager.

Gilbert scoffed, breaking into an indignant smile. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, please help me if my memory is wrong, but you're the one who said 'sure, I'll be your boyfriend.'" Roderich looked to the side, rather unamused.

"Because _you_ said that we might as well be a couple!"

"To be fair, you're the one who said you barely knew me." Roderich said, matching his indignant demeanor.

Gilbert laughed, but not because anything was funny. Outrage was brewing. " _To be fair_. Oh my god. This again." This argument felt a little too familiar to Gilbert.

"Indeed." Roderich said sharply.

They stood silently yet again, this time in silent fumes.

"…okay." Gilbert broke the silence. "If we're in a relationship, this is not how I want to start it."

"I agree."

"Can we… _agree_ that both of us entered this together." Gilbert took a deep breath. He found some sort of desperation in him to keep it together. After the weeks he had spent in self-pity that he would never again see his soulmate, he couldn't afford to lose his chance. Especially after the day had gone so well. Still, he was rather pissed that Roderich had thrown him under the bus.

"…yes." Roderich said tensely.

"It's just that…" Gilbert closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to lose his temper, clenching his fist. "We just started… _dating_ , and now we aren't going to see each other for three weeks. Don't you think that's just… weird?"

Roderich didn't answer immediately, looking to the side. "No."

This time, Gilbert gave his answer a minute to stew. How could he not think that this was unusual? "Okay, well, I think it's weird."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Gilbert sighed audibly, frustration beyond words brewing in his forehead. He couldn't think of anything to say, especially anything reasonable or without exploding. Even though they didn't live in the same city – the same country – it wasn't as far as it could've been. Especially with all the traveling that Roderich did. And Gilbert could take a train there, too, if he wanted… or they could meet in Prague or Munich or somewhere in the middle… it wasn't unthinkable…

Roderich continued for him. "I was going to ask if you would like to go with us," He leaned backwards against the pole of a streetlight, crossing his arms again. "So that neither of us would just disappear again."

"…again?"

"Well, after we met, you were just nonexistent for about three weeks," Roderich said.

"I thought you got why I did that." Gilbert sighed, really not wanting to explain all of it to him for a third time.

"…I understand, now, Gilbert. And… I am terribly sorry for how I behaved when you tried to explain it to me before." He turned his head to look down at his feet in shame. "I didn't want you to show me your Last Words. That's… rather frightening."

He thought for a moment, looking down at his covered wrist. He guessed that it would be rather scary to know what the future holds, especially if it involved such a major ending in somebody's life. But there came a time when everybody would have to know what was on the other's wrist… it was too personal a thing not to inevitably share with the person you would spend your life with. Not that he had already planned to spend a life with Roderich…

"I just didn't want you to think that I was ignoring you for no reason."

"I know…" Roderich trailed off, for once not finding words to fight with.

Gilbert hadn't expected to have this conversation today, but he was ready nonetheless. "Well, now that you know mine, should we make it even?"

Roderich grabbed his own wrist, thinking for a moment. "I don't think so. I don't want to put you through that."

"I mean, I put you through it." He justified, trying to tone down the conversation.

"It doesn't mean I want to reciprocate," Roderich said suddenly. There was a brief silence before he continued. "Gilbert. I hadn't ever listened for my Words, it wasn't something I worried about. But when I read them to myself… I had them flipped."

Gilbert was surprised. "You mean, you thought your Last Words were your First Words?"

"Yes."

"Well, I know how that feels…" He said quietly.

Once more, the shared silence was tangible and heavy. The mood was difficult to decipher, but Gilbert couldn't stand it for more than half a minute.

"Anyway, I can't just leave my job for three weeks without notice, Roderich."

The man looked rather surprised, innocently so. "I thought your manager liked you."

"That's not how that works. I don't just get a free pass to not come in just because Holger likes me."

"Even though we did the interview in front of his establishment?" Roderich prompted.

"Again, not how that works. You and I have very different employment experiences," Gilbert said, finally flashing a small smile.

"Apparently so," Roderich said. "Well, you could at least come to one of the Berlin shows. We're doing two the first week of December. I can give backstage passes to you and your brother."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up, finding the idea of backstage passes anywhere rather exciting. "Well, Ludwig isn't much of a concert-goer, but that sounds like it would be fun."

"I would love for you to meet the boys," Roderich said with some trace of happiness. "They are all quite excited to meet you."

He couldn't believe that Roderich had brought him up to his band. Then again, he didn't really know his relationship with them. Maybe it was completely different than his relationship with Elizabeta. But then Elizabeta was definitely excited to meet Gilbert… "I mean, if they're your family then I'm pretty excited too."

Roderich pulled his phone out of his pocket enough to see the time. "Speaking of them… I'd better head back to the hotel and talk to Elizabeta and them about some of the tour details."

"Do you need help getting back?"

"Actually, no, I think I could find my way if I can find the nearest station." Roderich's confidence was undoubtedly on the fence, but Gilbert thought that they had already argued enough for one day.

"I'll walk you there, it's just a block or two."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Roderich said. Gilbert could tell that he was slipping back into a much more professional version of himself again. "I didn't realize how late it was getting. Hopefully she hasn't racked up a bill getting dinner sent to the room."

"…the room? Are you guys sharing a room?"

"Of course. No use in wasting money getting two."

Gilbert stopped in his tracks, complete disbelief clouding the air. "So you're on a date, but you're sharing a hotel room with your ex-wife."

Roderich sighed. "She is a friend. She is my manager. We have two separate beds, not that it would even be an issue…" he fumed, looking aside.

Gilbert shut his eyes tight and put a hand on his forehead. This was the weirdest scenario he could've imagined. "…I'll drop it."

The remainder of their walk was silent. The day was long, and had almost completely circled back around right where they began. Awkwardly conversing, the future vague and far away. When they approached the stairs to the U-Bahn, Roderich stopped and faced his companion at arm's length. A familiar stance, Gilbert thought.

"Thank you for the tour of Berlin," he said quite pleasantly. "I will do the same in Vienna, when we get there."

"No problem," Gilbert said, looking past Roderich's glasses and into his dark, ever-thinking eyes. He wasn't even sure if they had brought up going to Vienna, but, inevitably he would get there. Probably. "I, uh, really did have a good time." Gilbert said.

"As did I," his boyfriend replied. "And I'll see you in two weeks. I will get you information about the show in a couple days."

Gilbert tried to smile, working past his frustrations. "Sounds great. Um… I'll call you. Soon. If that's okay."

"Of course."

For a moment they stood, looking at each other expectantly. Now what?

"Thanks for… hanging out." He said, extending a hand. Roderich eagerly took it in his, but Gilbert hadn't thought that far ahead. He wasn't sure what the goal of taking his hand was, but the end result was a rather lifeless and unimpressive handshake.

Roderich looked rather amused, almost to the point of laughing. "A handshake at the end of a date?" As if even _he_ knew that was a stupid move.

"…shut up." He suddenly drew his hand back, hiding behind him. He felt the rise in temperature in the air around his cheeks. "Bye. Safe travels." He turned around, embarrassed as he had ever been. For the first time since Frida left, he had felt incredibly out of place.

But their roles had switched, it appeared. Roderich grabbed his shoulder before he escaped. Gilbert felt his grip turn him around, bringing them face to face. "Apparently neither of us know how to be in a relationship," Roderich stated before pecking Gilbert's cheek. "Thank you again." The mark his lips had left on Gilbert's face was invisible, but the warmth in its wake was tangible.

Gilbert watched as Roderich, now full of confidence, took the handrail in his left hand and headed into the tunnels below. This was the same man who talked to Nora and the Freudenbergers, not the man he thought he had enjoyed a date with. Roderich was confusing, he thought. Frustrating and confusing, yes, but charming nonetheless.


	18. Chapter 18

Two weeks disappeared faster than beer after a football match at the Beilschmidt residence, and with each day Gilbert dug deeper and deeper into his invisible anxiety for the upcoming show. He wasn't even the one standing on stage in front of tens of thousands of people, but the idea of meeting Roderich's "family" was nerve-wracking. Not that he would let Roderich know that.

They had also called each other a few times over the course of the two weeks. The conversations weren't much, but Gilbert gave it some effort. Mostly just saying hello and asking how their day went, before one or both of them had to be occupied with work or Roderich's insane touring schedule. He appreciated that Roderich cared enough to send him a "good morning" text once or twice. It wasn't going terribly, Gilbert thought.

When the day arrived, Gilbert found the pit in his stomach growing larger and larger. What if his bandmates didn't like him? When Gilbert had dated around in his younger years, he of course would introduce them to his brother and his friends. If they didn't like that person, they were out. Sometimes he thought it was harsh, especially if he liked that particular person. But the method had never failed him before, and now that he had found his soulmate… Would Roderich's bandmates be as unforgiving if they didn't like him?

Waking up was a long process today; he hadn't slept through the night because of his nerves. What shot him out of bed was his phone vibrating violently on the nightstand. He quickly checked it: a text from Roderich.

 _The show starts at eight. Elizabeta will pick you up at four after our sound check is done._

And then, a minute later:

 _:)_

Gilbert rolled his eyes, throwing the covers off of him. He tried to rub his sleep off of his face as he made his way toward the kitchen; he could smell Ludwig cooking already.

"Good morning," Ludwig said, flipping eggs in a pan. "I hope you aren't expecting me to make you something."

"You suck," Gilbert said, opening the fridge and dragging out a full carton of orange juice. He carefully unscrewed the lid and waterfalled it into his mouth.

"Must you insist on doing that," Ludwig sighed. "It's not like we don't have clean cups."

"I'm just saving time," he defended smugly. He turned around to see his brother holding out a plate of ham and eggs for him. He grinned from ear to ear. "I knew you loved me."

"Only sometimes." Ludwig said, the smallest hint of a smile present on his lips.

Gilbert took a seat at the kitchen table, tearing into his breakfast. Food always tasted better when he didn't have to make it, he thought. He was halfway through his plate when his brother sat down in front of him.

"Have you been bothered at work over the last couple weeks?" Ludwig asked.

Gilbert shook his head. "Not really, there's been a couple people who have asked if it's really me or whatever. Holger's ready to leave me the pub in his will though after all the business I gave him!" The place hadn't been struggling beforehand, but every night for the last two weeks had been continuously busy now that a celebrity had been spotted there.

"Are you serious?" Ludwig asked, quite stunned.

Gilbert blinked and stared back. "Um, no. I was exaggerating."

Ludwig looked back at him in confusion. Sometimes hyperboles were not his brother's forte. "The concert is tonight?"

Gilbert swallowed quite forcefully. "Yeah."

"Is it at the Treptow Arena?"

"No, uh… I think it's at the Mercedes-Benz Arena."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows. "That's a lot of people to play for."

"I mean, they're pretty popular."

"You didn't even listen to his band before you met him." Ludwig said, unintentionally smug.

"Well _no_ , but when's the last time either of us listened to something new?" Gilbert proposed, holding a fork towards his brother. Ludwig opened his mouth to answer, but Gilbert cut him off, sticking the fork out further. "Podcasts don't count."

Ludwig closed his mouth, going back to cutting the ham on his plate. He had no response.

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, yeah, that's what I thought."

Gilbert looked himself over in the mirror once more. He looked flawless. A gray, collared shirt under a black sweater, his favorite jeans, and his white jacket. His hair combed and side-swept: thankfully he hadn't slept on his face or his bangs would be everywhere. If looks could kill, he thought. He stepped out of his room, pocketing his phone and wallet after taking a rather cringe-worthy selfie. How could he be nervous when he looked like this?

His phone buzzed against his thigh; Elizabeta had arrived to pick him up. He hoped their interaction wouldn't be too awkward without Roderich as a buffer. He threw on a black leather coat on top of his outfit, the winter breeze was already visibly shaking the trees across the street. He grabbed his housekey on the way out, locking the door behind him and making his way out to the car. She had already opened the door for him, and he joined her in the back seat.

"Hello there, handsome!" She said, laughing. "An impressive outfit you've got there."

"You think so?" He said proudly. "I thought so."

"I'm sure you'll be the center of attention," she said, handing her phone to the driver up front after she pulled up directions.

"Yeah, do you think the guys will like me?" He asked. His tone was a little more nervous than he intended for it to be.

"Probably. If Roderich likes you, I'm sure they will too." She shrugged, not picking up on his tone. She seemed pretty laid-back for someone who had been running a tour for two weeks.

They watched the neighborhoods go by for a few minutes in relative silence. Only the car radio filled the void, playing some unfamiliar classical selections. He wondered if Roderich would be able to name them if he were there. Probably.

The streets of Berlin looked different from inside a car, he noticed. Neither he nor his brother owned a car, they had no need or space for one. The U-Bahn was always dark, and the S-Bahn usually crowded. Sitting in your own seat with so few others to bother you seemed like a luxury to him, albeit an unnecessary one. Though he was rather grateful for Elizabeta's constant generosity. She didn't have to come get him, especially with a hired driver. For being such a seemingly large part of Roderich's life, Gilbert knew little about her. Maybe this was an opportunity to try.

"So," he said, turning his attention from the window. "Elizabeta, where are you from?"

"Budapest." She said, smiling. "But I've lived a lot of different places. I've been in Vienna for almost seven years."

"Is that how long you've been Roderich's manager?"

"No, I've only been the band's manager for four years. They didn't need one before they accidentally wrote a chart-topper." She grinned, quite proud of her boys. "But that's when I started managing Roderich's solo work as well. He's never been organized, so I just. Assumed the duty."

"I gathered," he said, remembering Roderich's shirt on the floor. But that brought up another issue. He felt awkward saying it, but she seemed honest enough. Might as well just bring it up. "So… um. You guys were married."

She laughed out loud. "Hardly!"

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"Two twenty-one-year-olds living the same house does not a marriage make," she said in a rather song-like way. "When you don't have children after five years in an arranged marriage, your parents begin to wonder what the point of it all is."

"Why did they set up an arranged marriage for you anyway?" He couldn't even fathom the idea of being forced to be with somebody… but he supposed that's what soulmates were, after all.

She smiled, reminiscing. "My parents wanted to keep money in the family. We had known each other since we were children, and I remember by the time I was sixteen I just kind of… knew that we would wind up together, soulmates or not. Not that either of our parent's believe in the importance of soulmates."

"…is your family Jewish?" He asked.

"Oh, no," she said. "That didn't bother his parents. His grandmother was very disappointed, but, I don't care what that hag thinks. My family cared only for status. Not really sure what his family thought. Don't particularly care."

So blunt, Gilbert thought. "Didn't like your in-laws?"

"Oh no. I never did. I'm not sure I liked Roderich until we got married, quite honestly. He was always a pain in the ass."

Gilbert laughed. "That doesn't surprise me!"

She laughed too, apparently finding his reaction humorous. "It's true! It wasn't until I had to live with him that we became friends. I do enjoy his company, now that we are both adults. We also had a housekeeper, so I didn't have to clean up after him. That probably helped."

Gilbert was surprised at her honesty, but one question persisted. "Then why did you get a divorce?"

She looked out the window for a moment. "Well, _he_ will tell you it's because our families agreed that the arrangement wasn't doing anybody a bit of good. Like I said, five years and no children doesn't look great."

Gilbert propped his elbow up on the window and leaned into his hand. "You sound like you have a different story."

She looked back at him with an eyebrow up. "Well, what he doesn't know is that I met my soulmate. The day I did, I realized that our marriage wasn't the life I wanted. I realized that I wasn't happy, he wasn't happy. It really just wasn't meant to be."

"He doesn't know?" Why was she telling him this?

She shrugged. "I didn't want to make him feel guilty for being married to me. I think he already was. Maybe now that you've come into his life, I'll tell him. You've actually opened a lot of doors for the two of us."

"So where is your soulmate?" Gilbert was genuinely interested, but slightly concerned. Why was she following Roderich around if her soulmate was out in the world?

"She and her husband live in Vienna." She said bluntly. Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Should he apologize? Elizabeta didn't seem like the kind of person who would need a pity party. "So you know," she said, returning her eyes to the city beyond the car window. "Roderich and I were both disappointments."

Elizabeta gave the driver very clear instructions as they approached the arena. He was to take them around the back entrance, and she had to show her identity to one or two guards trying to keep pestering fans at bay. She paid the driver quite nicely, and the two were left in a concrete stairwell leading to a dark back entrance.

"Is this where you take all your murder victims?" Gilbert asked, hoping humor would cover his residual nerves.

She laughed, punching in a code on the pad next to the doorway. "Just the ugly ones." She smirked over her shoulder as she pulled open the heavy steel door, leading to a hallway lined with red exit lights.

Gilbert didn't have time to reply before he was immediately distracted by a dozen or so people running around, checking sound equipment, talking into headsets, and so on. The ceilings were tall, scaling so high into the darkness that he almost couldn't see them. Wires lined the wall, stretching further than he could see, many behind a huge, black wall of metal slides. Bright white lights poured in through the gaps, and Gilbert realized that it must be the stage. He couldn't even how many people would be on the other side, for the backstage area to be so big.

"The green room is just around the corner," Elizabeta said. "Don't get lost!"

He did his best to maneuver between people and amps and crates and wires, following her as closely as he could. Finally, they reached the end of a more well-lit hallway with a large set of double doors at the end. She pushed open one of the doors and ushered him inside.

This room was covered in posters of shows, sports matches, and celebrities. There was a feeling of coziness though, from the gray shag carpet to the mismatched furniture and fake fireplace. In the center of the room were three couches surrounding a coffee table, and five people seated. One man was standing in front of the rest, waving his arms about like a crazy person.

"Riding a bike?" A seated man said. The standing one nodded vigorously and pointed at his groin, holding up one finger.

"What the hell," a woman said from the other couch.

The standing one then held a finger to an outstretched arm.

"Injured? In a biking accident?" Another one said.

The standing man reached up to his face and twirled a non-existent mustache, and then drank something from an invisible cup.

"Um, you're… evil?" Another man said.

"Poisoned?"

"Don Giovanni?"

"That's time," Roderich's voice said, looking up from his phone.

"What the hell, Jonas?" one of the other men said.

"It was Lance Armstrong!" Jonas said, throwing his arms in the air.

"What!?" Everyone shouted in chorus.

Jonas held his arms out in defense, and then reenacted the motions. "Riding a bike, yeah," he pointed to his groin. "He's only got one testicle," he pointed at his arm. "And he did steroids," and then he stroked the mustache. "And this was France. Because he won the Tour de France."

"How is that France?" said one man.

"Because… I was French! I was drinking wine!"

"That's… how is that France?"

"You suck at this," the woman said.

"Like your Margaret Thatcher was better than that," Jonas said.

"How the hell am I supposed to be Margaret Thatcher without saying anything?" she fought back.

Suddenly Jonas caught the eye of the two that had entered the room moments before. "Hey!" He said, and everyone turned to look. "The almighty Liz has returned!"

Gilbert caught Roderich smiling quite wide, but only for a moment. He stood and made their way over to them, putting a hand on Gilbert's arm. "I'm glad you're here," he said, and turned to face the others, who were making their way towards them. "This is Gilbert, everybody."

Jonas was the first to reach him, and shook his hand forcefully. "Hi, I'm Jonas," he said. He had tight curls in his hair and a smile spread across his entire face.

"Hi," Gilbert said, trying to remember who was who.

The next man, a tall man with a beard and very short hair, shook his hand. "Mendel."

"Mendel," Gilbert repeated.

The next person was a woman, with short blonde hair tied backwards behind her ears. "I'm Ben." She said smugly.

"And I'm Hannah, Mendel's girlfriend," The short man next to her said. He reached across the girl and linked arms with an amused Mendel. Gilbert laughed and shook their hands, repeating their names as well.

The final man was tall, dark-haired, and immediately charming. "Wolf," he said simply, shaking Gilbert's hand. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Roderich hasn't shut up about you this entire tour."

Roderich turned just pink enough to be noticeable. "That's not true."

Jonas came around behind him and elbowed him in the side. " _Gilbert is much more entertaining than you are, Jonas_ ," he said, mimicking Roderich's tone quite well. " _And definitely better at charades._ "

"I never said that!" Roderich said, elbowing him right back.

"I'm paraphrasing." Jonas laughed.

Hannah rolled her eyes before making her way back to her place on the couch. "It's not hard to be better than you."

As Jonas tried to fire a friendly retort back, Gilbert turned to see Elizabeta slip out of the doorway. She probably had important things to do, and now that he was with Roderich, he was probably fine with this group of strangers.

"We could see just how good _Herr Berliner_ is at charades," Jonas said, holding up a stack of cards.

"Is that my name?" Gilbert said, and made his way towards the crowd.

"I mean if Roderich is _Wienerblut_ ," Wolf said, plopping down dramatically into a cushion.

"You told them I call you that?" Gilbert looked surprised, unsure whether to be embarrassed. Was it a pet name?

"Oh yeah, now we all call him that," Wolf laughed.

Roderich crossed his arms, trying not to smile. "You know, the majority of us here are all Viennese, so…"

" _Wienerblut, Wienerblut!_ " Roderich's friends chanted at him with laughter. Gilbert laughed too, amazed that he had made such an impact without ever meeting them.

Roderich held out the stack of cards to his boyfriend, rolling his eyes. "Well, don't let me down, I have to show off your apparent charades skills to my friends."

Gilbert grinned. "I like how you guys warm up for your shows," and drew a random card. _Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart_ , it read. He laughed aloud. "Yeah okay, tell me when." He backed away from the table, waiting for Roderich's cue.

Roderich watched his phone for a second. "Go."

Gilbert held out three fingers. "Three words," the group said in unison. He switched to one finger. "First word." He nodded, and put one finger on his wrist. "First syllable."

He looked around at the group, desperate to remember names. He pointed at one of the men, hoping he was right.

"Wolf?" Roderich asked. Gilbert grinned and nodded. He held up two fingers.

"Second word," Wolf said, laughing. Gilbert pointed to Roderich and then motioned playing the violin, and the piano.

"Pianist. Violinist. Soloist." Hannah spitballed.

Gilbert pointed at Roderich again, and then brought a hand down closer to the ground, as if he was showing the height of a small child. The group continued to fire off incorrect suggestions as he motioned pianist again, and then writing.

"Small?"

"Child?"

"Prodigy!"

"Mozart?" Roderich said, unconvinced of his own words. Gilbert jumped, and then pointed back at Wolf. " _Wolf_ gang Amadeus Mozart?" He continued.

Gilbert laughed loudly. "Yes! That was so easy!" The group cheered and laughed.

Roderich too, laughed enough to be heard. "Why did you point at me?"

"I don't know, because you write music?" Gilbert shrugged. He thought back to their first conversation at _Nollendorfplatz_ , remembering his own comment about Austrians having a duty to Mozart.

Hannah swung her head around, laughing. "See Jonas, that's how you do charades."

The group entered another loud, but friendly, argument, and Gilbert couldn't help but laugh. He already felt more welcome than he had in a long time, especially amongst strangers. He had to admit, he already liked Roderich's coworkers better than his own.


	19. Chapter 19

Gilbert was sure he could've sat for hours and joked around with them. They had a well-tried system of banter with plenty of room for Gilbert to find a place among them. Even so, he couldn't place each person's role besides Hannah's playful meanness and Jonas as the class clown. They were the most outspoken of the group. He was surprised to find that Roderich was rather quiet. He didn't speak unless he had something very important to say – and it was usually a snide remark that cut to the heart of the topic and sent the group into an uproar. Really, the only thing that separated him from the group was everyone's constant switching between informal with their good friends, and formal when the conversation directed back to Gilbert. But that wouldn't last long, he thought. Hopefully.

One thing he found quiet delight in was the opportunity to be close to Roderich. The two of them seated so close together, their shoulders and hips touching just enough, it was kinda nice. It felt like an extension of their closeness from their last outing. He had even taken the opportunity to casually put his arm around his shoulders… Maybe he did have a _crush_ on Roderich – but this one was different than anything he had felt towards anyone in the past.

His younger years, his teenage years especially, had been riddled with heart-fluttering crushes. When he was still in school and had a crush on someone, he would be distracted by just the thought of them. He couldn't look them in the eye without feeling nervous. Even being in the same classroom made his heart swell.

He wanted to chalk it up to immaturity, but even with the last girl he had a thing for, he had similar issues. She had worked at _Der Freischütz_ for a few months, and Gilbert had been head over heels for her. He would mess up drink orders if they were at the bar at the same time, and often customers would complain that he was flirting with her instead of taking their orders. Not that he wasn't able to smooth-talk his way out of any situation… and she had flirted with him, too.

But his relationship with Roderich was different. He enjoyed the closeness, but it wasn't distracting him or keeping him from conversation. Their conversations were comfortable, and he could look him in the eye… most of the time. In a strange way, he was beginning to see Roderich as his equal. Maybe putting him in a setting with other people made him seem more human, less elite and inaccessible.

Even lost in his thoughts, Jonas had single-handedly kept the conversation going. He seemed pretty experienced in the art of charismatic entertainment.

"Okay so I'm at this Christmas party at DonauTechno," Jonas said, talking with his hands. When he spoke, he looked around and included everyone in his rounds of eye contact.

"Is that the place down the street from you?" Wolf asked.

He thought for a moment. "Uh… no, it's the one by your mom's favorite chocolate place."

"How do you know what my mom's favorite chocolate place is?" Wolf said, looking borderline offended.

"Anyway!" Jonas said, putting a hand on Wolf's face to silence him. "I'm thinking about leaving because I just wasn't feeling the vibe…"

"…the _vibe_?" Wolf mocked.

"Yeah, the vibe!" Jonas said, as if it were obvious. "But right as I'm out the door this guy starts talking to me about the history of the neighborhood, blah blah blah," he waved his hands in circles, hurrying himself along. "And I don't remember how we came to this but he was super interested in history, right? And he tells me he has a piece of an old plane in his car."

Gilbert perked up, Jonas's endless stand-up act finally catching his attention. "A plane?"

"Straight up. A plane." His eyes were wide and his tone was serious. "Like, an old fighter plane from the second world war."

"Did he tell you the RLM number?" Gilbert asked.

"The what? Uh, no…" Jonas said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and beginning to scroll through it.

Wolf looked unconvinced. "Did he _really_ have a plane, though?"

"Yes! He straight up had a piece of an airplane in the back of his car!" He turned his phone towards the group. The screen held a high-contrast photo of the inside the back seat of a car. Stretched across the entire back seat was a piece of thick metal with a coat of faded and chipping yellow paint. On one side, half of a swastika faded in the same way.

Wolf was surprised, but pleasantly so. "Wow, that's… pretty cool."

Gilbert took a moment to look over it, taking the phone from Jonas's hand. He felt the warmth of Roderich's face over his shoulder, looking down at the phone.

Jonas continued. "Yeah, so, I followed him a couple blocks…"

"…wait, you just followed a stranger to his car?" Wolf interrupted.

"I'm not a teenage girl, dude, I just wanted to see a plane."

"Absolutely everything you just said sounds sketchy beyond reason," Wolf said.

"I think it's a Dornier Do 17," Gilbert suddenly said, still staring at the picture.

Everyone turned to look at him. "A what?" Jonas said.

He looked up with an excited smile. "It was sometimes called a 'flying pencil' because it was so skinny. It was a bomber, mostly used for recon and night fighting. I might be wrong, but this kind of aircraft would've been responsible for the London _Blitzkreig._ " He caught Roderich's stare in his peripheral, his face frozen in surprise.

"How can you tell?" Wolf asked, taking the phone from his hand and looking over it.

"It's a guess, but that piece there is a rudder for sure. The yellow paint gives it away, but also the shape of it." Gilbert grinned. "I don't know where he got that, I didn't think any of the planes were around after like, 1950."

Mendel looked over Wolf's shoulder, studying the picture curiously. "It could be a reproduction. A prop for something."

"I mean, we don't know," Jonas said, probably feeling defensive about his cool story.

"So anyway, Jonas, what happened after that?" Wolf prompted.

"Oh, I dunno. I went home." He shrugged.

Wolf laughed. "So what was the point of the story!"

"I thought it was interesting! And Gilbert thought it was cool!"

Gilbert grinned. "It _is_ cool."

Suddenly, a voice interrupted the conversation from the doorway. "Hey guys!" Elizabeta knocked on the door. "Doors open in thirty minutes."

"Thanks, Liz," the boys all said in unison. The band members all stood up and stretched, save for Roderich. Elizabeta disappeared after a moment, gone as soon as she arrived. The others followed her out, one by one. Gilbert assumed they had to go warm up or do whatever before the show. Hannah was the last one out, but she had gone in a different direction.

Roderich was still a bit shocked, looking Gilbert over as if he was wearing a costume or a tacky outfit. Gilbert pretended not to notice for only a moment, but the duration of the stare was a little too long for him. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." He said smugly.

"I didn't know you knew so much about airplanes," Roderich said.

"I really don't, I just think world war two fighter planes interesting. My father had a huge collection of models… you've been in my room, you know, all those things on the shelves?"

Roderich blinked. "I… I didn't notice them."

Secretly disappointed, Gilbert shrugged. "Well, I just think they're cool. You're not the only one with niche hobbies, _Herr Musikinstrument-Museum_." He elbowed his side.

"I never said I was," Roderich sat up straight. "And is that my name now?"

Gilbert laughed. "It's a mouthful, I think I'll stick with _Wienerblut_." He put his hands on his knees and stood slowly, stretching outward from hours stuck in an ever-sinking cushion. "Don't you have to go get ready or something?"

Roderich sighed. "At some point, yes," he followed Gilbert's actions, taking just a bit longer to stand. "But, I thought you might want to see something first."

Gilbert's mind jumped to interesting conclusions, ones that he didn't know he had the capacity to think of at the moment. "Uh… maybe."

Roderich looked pleased enough with his response and headed for the door. "I don't think you will be disappointed."

Gilbert followed him, the same way that Hannah had left, and the same way that Elizabeta had led him there. Roderich knew the same path that she did, weaving through people and wires and boxes. He led him all the way back to the area just off stage, the bright lights still shining through the gaps in the black screens. Roderich poked his head just behind one of them, a halo of light illuminating each hair on his head. "Would you like to take a look?" He said, turning back to Gilbert. His face was completely shrouded in shadow, but Gilbert could still see a smile.

"Why not?" He responded, feeling adventurous. Roderich stepped out, behind the black screen and into the sea of white light. Gilbert followed, only steps behind.

The light flooded into his eyes, burning slightly. He put a hand up, blocking what he could, and stepping blindly forward. He stopped only when he bumped forcefully into Roderich's back.

He laughed quietly at Gilbert's clumsiness. "It is rather bright, but the lights will go down when we actually perform. But I thought it would be… cool, for you to see this." Roderich's hand gently touched his arm, and he led him forward and out of the flood lights.

Gilbert took his hand down, looking out into the ocean of empty seats. He really didn't comprehend the size of this place. Even driving around it wasn't enough to grasp just how many people could fit in the room. Floor seats stretched back as far as he could see, and up into the rafters the seats stretched into the darkness. He stared into the abyss, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"Holy shit." Was all he could say.

Roderich laughed, looking only at Gilbert. "Ticket sales indicate that it will be close to a full house," he said. "This is our biggest concert yet. We've never played anywhere this big."

"How many people?" Gilbert said quietly, not even sure where to start counting.

"Seventeen-thousand is the capacity," Roderich said. He didn't sound nervous, maybe slightly in disbelief though.

"This is crazy," Gilbert said. "And you still want to do symphony concerts?"

Roderich elbowed him. "I can't ignore that side of music. I was raised with it, and I owe my life to it. I love classical music, and that will not ever change."

Just when Gilbert thought that he had pinpointed Roderich's personality, his overtly professional side slipped out again. Gilbert had a thought… perhaps it was a defense mechanism. Whenever he felt unsafe, or uncomfortable, he just flipped the switch and turned into an interview machine.

"I know, I know," Gilbert said, feeling an unusual comfort standing side-by-side with Roderich. "This is just… huge. Like… all these seats are people who want to see you. That's crazy."

He suddenly felt Roderich's fingers slip through his. He didn't look down or react, other than to curl his fingers around his too. "I'll take you to a symphony concert," Roderich said quite proudly. "The setting is much more intimate than this." Strange choice of words, Gilbert thought, but he wasn't going to say anything about it. "But… not entirely."

"Not entirely?" He repeated.

"Concert halls are smaller than this," he said, thinking out loud. "But nobody knows who you are. Unless you're a soloist, nobody knows the name of every player in the orchestra they are seeing. Sometimes the list of names isn't consistent enough for anyone to keep tabs on it." He felt Roderich tighten his grip on his hand, as if he was afraid to let go. "But here… even with thousands of people watching… they all know our names, our faces. Our music moves them, just as classical music creates emotion. There is intimacy here, it's just a different kind."

Gilbert watched every detail of his face as he spoke. His words were filled with conviction, with purpose. As dramatic as it was, he wondered if Roderich's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't find much to respond with. The intensity weighed so heavily on the two of them that he took a few moments to think of an answer.

"Well, to be fair," he said, the mood turning on its heels. "There's only five of you, and like, fifty people in an orchestra, right? It's much easier to know five names than fifty."

Roderich turned to face him, a smug smile spreading over his lips. "You make a compelling argument." He released his grip on his fingers, setting his hand free. He turned to look back at the empty seats once more before heading back the way they came. "I need to change clothes. You are welcome to make yourself comfortable, I'm sure Hannah will show you around. She's always with us on tour."

"Okay, cool," Gilbert said, shielding his eyes from the light before he snuck into the darkness backstage again. As his eyes readjusted, he caught Roderich disappearing into the hallway. "Hey, _Wienerblut,_ " he called out.

Roderich spun around, staring back at him from down the hall. "Yes?"

Gilbert smiled, feeling oddly proud. He hadn't known Roderich for that long, true, but his _boyfriend_ was nothing short of amazing. A skilled and accomplished musician in two different worlds. He wasn't sure how he had managed to make him open up to him, but he had done it. They had a meaningful moment in conversation that was miles away from anything they'd ever shared before. And even though Gilbert hadn't met his boyfriend before his fame skyrocketed, he knew that it wasn't getting to his head. Maybe he was really getting to know the real Roderich – even if his professional barriers did go up sometimes. But at least now he had an idea as to why.

"I know you'll be awesome. I can't wait to hear you."

Roderich stepped into a doorway on one side of the hallway, unsuccessfully hiding a bashful smile. "I can't either."


	20. Chapter 20

There was a couch just offstage, behind the barriers that he and Roderich had crossed. He had taken a seat and was patiently waiting for the show to begin. It had only been a few minutes of playing on his phone before a crew member came through with a group of people, each one wearing a lanyard with a badge around their neck. They were all wide-eyed and looking around, quietly talking amongst themselves even as the crew member told them details about the show, the building, and the process behind it all.

Gilbert pretended not to watch them, but he managed to make awkward eye contact with the crew member leading the tour. Thankfully, she didn't say anything about his presence, and motioned for the group to follow until Hannah appeared in the doorway.

"Hazan, are these the backstage pass winners?" She said with a grin.

The tour guide turned to the side, welcoming Hannah into the group. "Yes they are."

"That's awesome, well, I'm Hannah, Mendel's girlfriend, I hope you guys enjoy the show!" Her friendliness seemed forced and insincere, but Gilbert seemed to be the only one to notice. There was a quiet chorus of "thanks" in response, and as Hazan began to lead the crowd away, Hannah waved them aside. "Wait, have you met Gilbert?"

"Gilbert?" A female voice said quietly from the back of the group.

"Uh, no, we haven't." Hazan seemed a bit annoyed at her interruptions.

Gilbert perked his head up and watched as Hannah came to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "This is Roderich's new boyfriend!"

"Uh, hi!" He said, waving. He hadn't really prepared an introduction.

"Hi," the small crowd said in response.

Hazan grew impatient, leading the group through the doorway. "So the next stop is the green room," she began, her voice fading as they left. One girl at the back of the crowd stopped to take a glance at Gilbert before disappearing with the rest.

Hannah plopped herself down on the cushion next to Gilbert, stretching her arms. "Kinda feels like you're in a zoo," she said.

He laughed, pocketing his phone to be polite. "A little bit, yeah. But I'm used to it." He added.

"Mm. Yeah, guess you would be." She said, reading her phone screen. Her response was rather off-putting, and her actions ill-mannered. He normally would be confrontational, but he didn't want to make enemies with Roderich's friends. Especially not today. Instead he pulled out his phone and poked around for a while longer.

"So, what are you most excited to hear tonight?" She asked after a few moments.

"Sorry?" He said, caught off guard.

"What song are you most excited to hear?"

"Oh, um…" how could he say that he hadn't listened to Roderich's music? "I'm just here to support Roderich." There, that's a safe answer.

"You don't have a favorite song?" She asked, disbelieving.

He shrugged. "I don't listen to them a lot…"

Hannah looked personally offended. "You don't listen to your own boyfriend's band?"

Now on the defense, he crossed his arms. "We've only been dating for two weeks…"

"…that's plenty of time to get through three albums."

"My whole life doesn't revolve around Roderich, you know." Maybe this was a time to make enemies. Did it matter if he was a fan of their music or not?

"Yeah, but you should support him." She retorted. Jesus Christ.

"That's why I'm here." He said, feeling his face burn with anger.

"Sure, sure." She said, looking back at her phone. So dismissive now. Gilbert wasn't morally opposed to name-calling. What a bitch.

He too, stared back down at his phone. He wanted to get out of her presence, but he had been on the couch before her and wasn't about to give up territory over a petty argument. A few more moments passed, silent except for the growing roar of the crowd filling the arena and the crew members occasionally passing by.

"Not that you asked," Hannah suddenly added. "But my favorite song is _Please Understand_."

Gilbert looked up from his phone suddenly. He wasn't about to let someone just walk all over him for no real reason. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"What?" She replied, her feigned shock unconvincing.

"Because I've known you for two hours and I'd sure as hell like to know what your issue is. Is it because I'm new?"

She stared at her phone as she spoke. "Maybe I should go get one of those backstage pass tour group people and swap them with you. At least they really care about the music, maybe one of them is more deserving of a spot back here than you are."

He scoffed. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm here and I haven't done a damn thing to bother you. I'm here to support my boyfriend and enjoy a concert. I didn't come here for judgement from a stranger."

Suddenly, the crowd on the other side of the barriers began to cheer louder than ever. They started counting backwards from ten, and Hannah abandoned the conversation to stand up and run to the door. The five men were lining up in the hall, with Mendel at the front. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheeks. "Good luck, babe, I can't wait!"

Mendel began walking forward, Roderich just behind him. He glanced over at Gilbert, smiling gently. Nobody had heard his conversation with Hannah, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Gilbert elected to move on with good thoughts, and gave two thumbs up and a childish grin to Roderich. Watching him do the same thing in return was enough to make Gilbert burst into laughter.

The crowed reached "one" and the men all walked in a straight line out on stage. The crowd was in an uproar. Gilbert couldn't see the audience, but he watched the five men take a simultaneous bow before going to their respective instruments.

He had never seen Roderich at a keyboard. A piano, yes, but an electronic keyboard was a different story. He had two sets of two keyboards, stacked on top of each other like an organ manual. He began pressing buttons and turning knobs, looking for the right setting. The five men all exchanged looks, nodding, and Benjamin spoke into the microphone, louder than he had all night.

" _Eins, zwei, drei, vier!"_

And the music began, a dance-like song Gilbert had never heard. Hannah was standing just behind the barrier, watching and dancing her heart out. She might be a bitch, Gilbert thought, but she didn't care what anybody thought of her.

Jonas and Wolf began singing the lyrics, both leaning into their microphones. Gilbert couldn't catch them all, but the song had a very "welcome to the show" theme. It was interesting to watch the five members play together. They shared eye contact, played to each other, even the two who were bound by their non-portable instruments. They moved and bounced with the music, even Roderich. Gilbert had never imagined him as a rock-music type, even with the knowledge that he was in a band. But to see it with his own eyes was a different story. Roderich played repeated chords with his right hand, and adjusted some sort of knob with his left. It was some sort of distortion effect. Gilbert didn't have the musical terminology to describe it, but it made his notes 'wavier'.

The song ended on a cymbal roll, and the crowd screamed in response. Gilbert wasn't even sure if there was applause, or just screaming.

" _Hallo Berlin!"_ Wolf called out loudly, receiving more screaming in return. "So nice to be back. How are you?" More screaming. "We hope you will enjoy tonight, we've prepared each song with love and care…"

"…and coffee," Jonas interrupted. "Lots of coffee." More screaming.

Wolf laughed. "Yes, there's always coffee involved when we write songs," he said, turning backwards. "Especially if Roderich is writing them, right?"

Another set of screaming arose as Roderich leaned into his mic. "Oh yes," he said. "Naturally."

Wolf turned back to face the audience and played a single power chord on his guitar. "So who is ready for some rock and roll?" They screamed in response, and Benjamin counted off.

The setlist continued, and Gilbert stood up to get a better view. Being backstage was a great privilege, but it didn't come with a great look at the show itself. He stood a little closer to the stage entryway, watching colorful circles of light illuminate the stage, the equipment, and the band's faces. Each new song had a different lighting sequence – he wondered who had put that together, and just how expensive this tour was to put on.

At some point after a song was over, Roderich pressed a lower note on a keyboard and held out a sustained bass for a minute or two, the atmosphere switching from upbeat to unhurried.

"So, Jonas," Wolf said expectantly into the mic.

"Yes, Wolf?"

"You know what I feel like?"

"What?"

"I'm feelin'… romantic, all of a sudden!" Cheers and bloody-murder screaming came from the crowd.

"Wolf, dude, I just don't like you that way…" Jonas said with a laugh.

"No, not you!" He said, laughing. This script had definitely been rehearsed. "I think it's time that Roderich play us a slow song, because I could really use…" he looked out into the audience. "…a dance." The screaming had never been this loud. Gilbert was sure he was going to go deaf.

He watched as Wolf and Jonas both placed their guitars in the stands and descended down a staircase into the audience. They only went a few rows back before returning with two blushing young women, one covering her face and the other in tears.

As this was happening and the crowd was occupied with their screaming, crew members began rolling a grand piano onto the stage, pushing it into place center stage. Mendel had traveled backstage, handing his bass off to a crew member and taking Hannah's hand. She followed him back out into the literal limelight with a smile. Benjamin had left the stage, standing only feet away from Gilbert. He silently watched, probably not wanting to be involved in the dramatics that Wolf and Jonas were so gladly throwing around.

Wolf and Jonas escorted the women onto the stage, holding the mics out for them.

"What's your name, miss?" Wolf said, handing the microphone over to his 'date'.

"…Elif…" she said quietly, her dark hair covering her face.

"And would you dance with me, Elif?" He asked, charming as ever.

She laughed and cried, nodding. "Sure!"

Jonas put an arm around his 'date'. "What's your name?"

"Maria," she said through tears.

"Why are you crying!" He said with a smile.

"…because this is…crazy!" she said, covering her mouth.

"Well… the world is crazy," he said, holding the mic with one hand around her shoulder and his other hand outstretched like he was viewing an art gallery.

Wolf leaned into his microphone. "Jonas, we don't have all day."

"Yeah, yeah," Jonas said, turning back to Maria. "Would you dance with me?"

Maria only nodded, wiping her eyes.

Wolf turned backwards and looked at Roderich, who had taken a seat at the piano, and was examining the keys. "Rod, would you sing us a little something?"

Roderich looked up, and leaned into the microphone. "But of course." He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, and then pressed his fingers into the keys and played a few simple chords. He opened his mouth to sing, taking a deep breath.

" _Ich habe Momente, ich kann lächlen,_

 _Und Momente, ich kann lachen._

 _Warum fühle ich, ich frage,_

 _Ich kann nicht mich selbst froh machen?_ "

Suddenly, Gilbert came to the realization that he had never heard Roderich sing before. His voice wasn't as loud or full as Wolf's, but it was definitely more trained and controlled. It was a different quality altogether, simpler, but richer. And each note was perfectly in tune; Gilbert expected nothing less.

The crowd cheered as he began playing a repetitive riff in his left hand and a moving pattern in his right. The two didn't match perfectly, but always met up when the beat began again. It sounded difficult to play, and he kept singing.

" _Wenn wir zusammen sind,_

 _Ich kann immer entdecken,_

 _Wir arbeiten gemeinsam wie eine Uhr,_

 _Unsere Hände nicht immer entsprechen._ "

The three couples on stage held each other closely, even the two girls dancing with strangers. Gilbert wondered what the audience was doing, who they were watching. The spotlight was Roderich's, but the dancers seemed so infatuated with their partners… Gilbert wished in the back of his mind that he had the opportunity to dance with Roderich during this song… but that would be selfish, he thought. This was Roderich's song, and he deserved a chance to perform it. And it was beautiful, both in the simple words and the less-than-simple piano part. The piano solo mid-song was complex and intricate, despite the slow tempo. The hands switched parts several times, all the while the same rhythmic pattern continuing.

" _Das ist unser schönes rhythmus,_

 _Wir haben das zusammen diese Nacht,_

 _Ich bin zwei und du bist drei,_

 _Eine Polyrhythmik gemacht_."

And with a final scale upward, Roderich ended the song. It was short and sweet, and Gilbert almost couldn't believe that Roderich had written it. Was he really capable of such gentle words? He would have to listen to it again when he got home, he decided. It wasn't the kind of song he normally enjoyed, but knowing that his boyfriend wrote it made it all the more interesting.

The crowd screamed and cheered, and the three dancing men escorted their women back to their seats. Hannah's grin was stretched across her face when she returned to the darkness of backstage, exchanging places with Benjamin.

Roderich took a very dramatic bow for the audience as the piano was rolled away. He went back to his place at the keyboards, leaning into the mic and smiling. "Thank you, Berlin, you're too kind."

Suddenly, the ever-silent Mendel took a step forward as a crew member brought him his bass. "I wish I could tell you how hard that is to perform," he said with a smile. "I could use big, fancy academic musical words to tell you, but I'll just say… it's balls hard. I can't sing and play at the same time, let alone play two different rhythms and sing. So another round for Roderich!"

The crowd continued to cheer, and Roderich waved. His smile was present, but not as wide as Jonas's or Wolf's. It was pleasant and modest, and his face was pink with embarrassment or adrenaline: Gilbert couldn't tell which one.

Benjamin counted off another fast song, and the crowd roared as it began. Gilbert recognized this one – it was one of their most popular songs. He found himself humming the melody, probably because he had heard it on the radio at work so many times. The crowd sang along too, as did all the band members. Even Roderich, who was jumping in rhythm with the others as they performed. The crowd even sang along with the piano riff, so recognizable that even Gilbert could hum it. He began to feel a swelling in his sternum, something he didn't recognize.

The song was over in a flash, and there was an explosion of light and applause. The five members took a bow, and Wolf leaned into the mic. "We'll be back in fifteen, so stick around Berlin. You're a lovely audience!" He blew the crowd a kiss, receiving screams and shouts in return.

One by one, Wolf bringing up the tail, they came backstage with sighs of relief. One of the crew members high-fived each one as they returned. Each of them were breathing heavily, worn out and sweating.

Hannah greeted Mendel with a hug and many words of congratulations. Mendel seemed thankful, but also exhausted. "Let me put on a clean shirt first, babe!" He said, wiping his forehead.

Roderich approached Gilbert with a grin, and Gilbert took in the sight of him like a restored Renaissance painting. His dark hair was plastered to his face with sweat, his shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath. His smile was wider now that he was offstage, and his shirt had been unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up at some point during the last song.

Gilbert thought he looked… dare he say, pretty hot. The feeling in his chest grew more noticeable the longer he looked at him.

"Did you like it?" Roderich asked.

Gilbert laughed and grabbed his shoulders, looking him over. "That was amazing. Your piano song was awesome! And the rest of it too, but you especially."

Roderich's face turned even pinker. "Oh, well, thank you…"

"I didn't know you could sing, _Wienerblut_!"

Roderich shrugged and looked down at his feet. "Well, I can carry a tune."

"Shut up, I know what I heard. It was good!"

"I'm glad you liked it." He said simply, still looking down.

Gilbert knew now what the feeling was. It was pride. He was proud of his boyfriend, of his band, of his song, of his singing voice. He didn't know how to show it either, especially with Roderich's weird and inconsistent boundaries. So he wrapped his arms around his chest and held him tight.

"…what! What's this?" Roderich asked.

"Haven't you ever been hugged before?" Gilbert asked.

Roderich took an oddly long time to respond before placing his hands on Gilbert's back. It was the closest they'd ever been, and even with Roderich covered in sweat, Gilbert enjoyed the warmth and the closeness they shared. When he pulled back, he saw Roderich's wide eyes staring back at him. "I… can't believe you liked it."

"I liked it. I loved it. Really, Roderich."

He began to smile, but it quickly became smug. "Oh, my real name. I forgot that you knew it."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and playfully pushed him away, turning him down the hallway towards the greenroom to follow his bandmates. "Go put on a clean shirt," he said.

"Sure, sure." Roderich said, waving as he left.

"And not one off the floor!"


	21. Chapter 21

Gilbert scarcely remembered the details of the remainder of the night. He remembered the loudest applause he'd ever heard in his life, watching the band take a bow, and then drinking in the green room for hours with the boys, the crew, and Hannah. He also distinctly remembered Roderich passing out on the couch after two and a half beers. And Elizabeta taking him home… and catching the first rays of sunlight through his window before collapsing into his bed.

His alarm went off at nine, which he considered sleeping in. He didn't typically suffer from hangovers, but it was so early… he probably hadn't slept for more than four hours. If he slept in any more he wouldn't hear the end of it from Ludwig. Unless he was at work…

"Wake up, _Dornröschen_!" Ludwig called from the kitchen, unfortunately not at work.

Gilbert groaned, rubbing his eyes and slowly rolling out of bed. "Only if you come kiss me, _mein Prinz_!"

Slowly but surely, he shuffled into the kitchen, the tile cold on his feet. It was colder than usual, he noticed. Much colder. When he reached the doorway, he saw that the window above the sink was wide open. "Christ, Ludwig, it's snowing."

"I know! It probably won't stick, though. I thought that the fresh air would wake you up," his brother said, sitting at the table. He was peering at his phone over his coffee mug.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Gilbert asked, his toes curling as he walked. The floor became colder closer to the window.

"It's Sunday." Ludwig simply said.

"Oh, yeah." Gilbert reached over the sink to shut the window, seeing snow accumulating on the ledge just outside. "How long has it been snowing? It wasn't when I got home… I think."

"It started about seven," he stated, and then put his phone down in front of him. "You were out quite late. I assume you enjoyed yourself?"

"Oh yeah," Gilbert said as he poured a cup of coffee for himself. "It was a great show. Their music is actually pretty good. Less boy-bandy than I expected!"

"Did you enjoy your time with Roderich?" Ludwig asked.

"I did, yeah," he said. He took a drink of the black coffee. Not his favorite, but not the worst. "I… don't really know where we're going from here."

Ludwig did not respond other than a quiet hum. He wasn't great at offering relationship advice. He had never heard his brother mention relationships, soulmates, or even his Words. Just like their father, he was private beyond reason. Maybe he would never talk to Gilbert about his Words. The two of them were close, but that was the one line that Ludwig had never crossed.

"He wants me to go to Vienna with him," Gilbert said after a few moments of silent contemplation.

"When?" Ludwig asked.

"Not sure, but with Christmas coming up it's a good opportunity to go."

"I thought he was Jewish," Ludwig said, unlocking his phone and resuming his reading.

He had a point. But Gilbert didn't know anything about Judaism, other than sometimes men wore yamakas. And Roderich didn't wear a yamaka. Was he religious? Maybe he was raised in a religious household? Gilbert and Ludwig had been dragged to a Lutheran service every Sunday for years by their father… but neither of them had retained much of the doctrine. Gilbert figured he should probably ask Roderich next time he saw him. It was an important thing to know about his boyfriend, but it wasn't until now that he had thought of it, or had felt comfortable enough to ask him.

Would they have to step on a glass or whatever at their wedding?

What was he saying? He suddenly shook his head, as if to throw the thought from his mind.

"He's not Jewish?" Ludwig asked.

"What? No, he is, I think."

"You think?"

"His family is, at least."

Suddenly the conversation paused, as Gilbert's ringtone went off loudly in his bedroom. "Be right back…"

He ran and picked up his phone, sliding it to answer without looking to see who it was. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Gilbert," Roderich said, sounding tired.

Surprisingly, his heart began to pick up the pace at hearing Roderich's voice. "Hungover, _Wienerblut_?"

Roderich scoffed, trying to find footing. "…In Austria, we say hello before we begin a conversation."

"So yes?" Gilbert said.

"You left your jacket backstage," Roderich said. "I'm bringing it to you."

"What?" Gilbert said, astonished.

"It's a size too big for me, but Mendel seemed like he wanted it. But I told him the white looked much better with your hair than it did with his."

"Um… thanks…" Gilbert said, unsure what to say.

"Elizabeta and I will be at your flat in fifteen minutes." Roderich continued.

"Oh, um, okay…" he walked out into the living room, suddenly feeling the desire to clean stronger than usual. What a morning. How had Roderich woken up before him? Elizabeta was probably responsible for that.

"Well, I'll see you soon…"

"Are you Jewish?" He found himself asking. Damn it, the coffee hadn't shaken off the remainder of the sleepiness yet.

There was a long pause while the two processed the outburst.

"…not practicing, no." Roderich said. "But I had a Bar Mitzvah if that's what you're asking."

"Sorry, I don't…" Gilbert began.

Roderich cut him off. "…no, it's alright. Are _you_ religious?"

Gilbert laughed. "No, I don't really know what I believe."

His boyfriend hummed in agreement. "That makes two of us."

He wasn't really sure how to respond to that rather… heavy statement, so he didn't. He just sat there, like a complete idiot. What a conversation to have over the phone.

"Well, I will see you shortly." Roderich continued.

"Yeah, see you." He hung up the phone before he could say any more stupid things, and looked around the living room for anything out of place. He wasn't sure why he was panicking, Roderich had been to his place before. But it seemed consequential now. Gilbert didn't want to explain it to himself.

"Hey, Roderich and Elizabeta are going to stop by and bring me my jacket," he called to his brother, taking a couple books off the table and putting them back on the shelf. That was really the extent of the clutter. He and Ludwig kept a mighty clean house.

"Isn't it rude to come over uninvited?" Ludwig asked as Gilbert returned to the kitchen.

"Hey, I'm the one who forgot my jacket. They didn't have to bring it to me." He crossed his arms.

His brother looked up from his phone. "Your boyfriend and his wife are coming over and you're wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday?"

Gilbert looked down at himself before processing his words. "Ludwig…!"

"Go change clothes."

"Okay _mother_ ," he grumbled, sulking back to his room. He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Maybe he should try to make himself look a little more respectable. He had just finished combing his hair when the doorbell rang.

He ran to get it, opening it wide. Roderich for once stood in front, carrying Gilbert's jacket over his own purple-sleeved arm. Elizabeta stood behind him, semi-hidden and looking uncharacteristically down at the ground. "Hey, you guys want to come in?"

"Certainly, thank you." Roderich said, stepping inside. Elizabeta silently followed.

He turned his head backwards, toward the kitchen. "Lud, we have guests!" He turned back around to face them. "Can I take your coats?"

"Of course," Roderich shed his purple coat, a glowing white shirt underneath. Elizabeta also took off her coat, handing it gently over to Gilbert.

He placed them on the coat rack next to the door as his brother stepped into the living room. Ludwig towered over the three of them, especially Elizabeta. He offered a handshake to Roderich.

"We have not yet properly been introduced," he said robotically. "I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt, Gilbert's brother."

Roderich shook his hand, standing straight as a board. "I'm Roderich Edelstein. Nice to meet you."

Gilbert felt the hairs on his neck stand up, so he quickly redirected the conversation. He motioned towards Elizabeta. "And this is their manager,"

"Elizabeta Hedervary." She said, introducing herself. She held out her hand, and gave Ludwig as firm a handshake as he gave her. He seemed surprised by this.

After a moment of the strangers standing in each other's presence, Gilbert spoke up. "Uh, do you guys want to stay?"

Roderich and Elizabeta spoke at the same time. "Certainly." He said.

"No thank you." She said.

They silently turned to look at each other, exchanging an unidentified kind of eye contact. Gilbert pretended not to watch their very odd encounter. He had never seen them act so intensely to each other; there was an unspoken something that brought out silent hostility. Elizabeta did seem to be oddly quiet, but Roderich was as normal as Roderich had the capacity to be.

Not breaking from her stare, Roderich began to shed his coat. "We can stay for a while."

She said nothing, but slowly did the same. She was visibly pissed off. Why wasn't she saying anything? This wasn't normal behavior for her. Something had happened, and Gilbert couldn't imagine what.

"…can I… get you some coffee?" Gilbert asked, taking their coats from them and hanging them on the rack just inside the front door. "It's, uh, real coffee. From the Christmas Market."

Roderich's eyes lit up, and his eyebrows shot above his glasses. "Yes, please, I would love some."

Gilbert looked to Elizabeta. "Liz?"

"Sure. Black, please." She said, still fuming. She looked off to the side, trying to contain whatever anger she was experiencing.

Ludwig had remained silent for the whole interaction, but motioned toward the living room. "Make yourselves at home," he said politely.

"Thank you," Gilbert heard Roderich say as he entered the kitchen. He poured two cups of black coffee and returned to the living room. He handed one to each of his now-seated guests and took a spot on the couch next to his boyfriend. Ludwig reappeared as well, pulling a seat from the kitchen table to join the silent group.

"So, that was a great show," Gilbert said, trying to lighten the tension.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Roderich said. "This coffee is quite good, thank you."

"I really did! I didn't know you could sing!"

Roderich laughed, trying to hide his bashfulness. "So you said."

"I had just told Ludwig that I didn't know how boy-bandy it was going to be, you know?" He smiled and elbowed his side.

"I'll have to listen and decide that for myself," Ludwig said, crossing his arms.

Gilbert scoffed. "Boy bands are all about the personalities and they all just sing the same notes and don't actually write their own songs, and they don't play instruments."

Roderich laughed. "There is some truth to that."

"Well, you guys are all really talented." Gilbert said proudly.

"Thank you, Gilbert. I appreciate it." He took another sip of his coffee. "I only wish that you didn't have to sit alone backstage."

Gilbert shrugged. "I didn't mind. I mean, I had Hannah…"

"Hannah is a witch," Elizabeta said suddenly. The three men turned to look at her. She was staring down into her coffee, her face frozen in frustration.

"…did she do something?" Gilbert asked.

"She's always doing _something_ ," Elizabeta spat. "She is so damn annoying. Self-righteous."

Gilbert wanted to laugh, but it seemed too serious of a situation. He felt exactly the same about Hannah, but he didn't want to upset Roderich. That was his friend, as far as he could tell.

"Oh, of course she is," Roderich said. "None of us like her. Jonas calls her Yoko Ono. Not to her face, of course." He smirked, hiding his expression with his coffee cup.

Gilbert thought Roderich's statement made it more acceptable to laugh, so he let out a smile and some air through his nose. "Why do you keep her around?" He held out a hand and turned to his brother. "It's Mendel's girlfriend, he's the bass pl…"

"I won't get involved in other people's business," Ludwig said, holding up a hand in return.

Roderich scoffed. "She and Ben are childhood friends, but I'm not sure that they get along all of the time. They seem to disagree on fundamentally different things. Of course, Mendel thinks he's in love with her."

" _Thinks_?" Gilbert repeated.

Elizabeta sat up and took a drink of her coffee. "She manipulates him time and time again. She uses him for control. We had to change some of the tour dates because Mendel wouldn't do anything that _she_ didn't want to do."

"She is always with him." Roderich said. "And therefore, always with us. So we don't have the opportunity to speak to him about it."

"She's doing that on purpose," Elizabeta said.

"I'm aware," he said, sipping coffee.

"That's… wow." Gilbert said. "So what are you going to do?"

Roderich shrugged. "It's not my business."

He scoffed. "It sure sounds like it is."

Elizabeta spoke firmly. "Roderich needs to figure out his own business before he can start dealing with external problems."

Roderich whipped his head around to look at her. The same anger he had directed at Frida appeared for a split second. "Excuse me?"

Elizabeta held up a hand, and looked over at Gilbert. "We really should be going back to Vienna. Thank you for your hospitality," she turned to Ludwig. "It was wonderful to meet you, you have a lovely home." She left her cup on the coffee table and stood, taking her coat from the rack. Roderich had barely set his cup down before she threw his coat at him from across the room.

Gilbert stood up and quickly walked towards the door. "Stay warm in the snow," he said, standing less than a foot away from Elizabeta. He looked her in the eye, trying to read her thoughts. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what. Her eyes showed him only frustration.

"We will," Roderich said, pushing his way forward. "Thank you." He slipped his hand into Gilbert's. Gilbert watched as his boyfriend looked over his face for a moment before opening the front door. "Thank you, Ludwig."

Ludwig, bordering annoyed and entertained, waved to him as he left. "You're welcome."

Roderich took his and back and stepped outside into the cold, Elizabeta trailing him: the same way they had entered. Gilbert watched the pair silently walk to the car on the curb and quickly drive away.

He shut the door and turned to his brother, still seated in the same place, but with his phone in his hand. "Something's wrong. That's not what she's like at all."

"Married couples fight, Gilbert. That is the way of things." Ludwig said.

"Jesus Christ, the _one time_ I'm trying to be serious." He threw his hands in the air and began to pace.

"I am sorry, Gilbert." Ludwig shut his phone screen off and looked up at his brother. "What do you think is bothering her?"

He leaned against the doorway to the kitchen and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe it's about Hannah? But it seemed like Roderich had done something to piss her off."

"Doesn't he piss you off?" Ludwig asked.

"No!" He shot back, and then groaned. "Well, yes, sometimes. She just knows him so well that she knows how to deal with his bullshit. But this time is different. She's like… really angry."

"Well, I don't like to interfere with other people's problems." Ludwig said, and stood. That was his cue that this conversation was over. He never wanted to discuss such things, even if it directly involved his brother.

Gilbert sighed and rubbed his forehead. Ludwig was frustrating, but maybe he had a point. It probably wasn't any of his business, but he couldn't help but worry. Then again, he barely knew Elizabeta. And he still hadn't known Roderich for very long. Perhaps there was no reason he couldn't just let this blow over, and if they wanted to, they could tell him what was going on. He decided to do some cleaning before his shift. That would keep him distracted enough.


	22. Chapter 22

It had been a quiet few hours since Roderich and Elizabeta's departure. Cleaning the house turned out to not be on the agenda for either of the Beilschmidts. Gilbert hadn't accomplished much in terms of a productive afternoon, but neither had Ludwig, and that made him feel a bit more justified in his own laziness. Sundays were perfect for relaxing before the work week consumed you, Gilbert thought. So he didn't feel too awful about mindlessly watching a series of documentaries about aviation and aircraft all day long.

"What do you want for dinner?" His brother called from the kitchen.

He pressed pause on his laptop, leaning his head backwards over his pillow. "Uh… I dunno. Whatever is fine."

"A straight answer wouldn't kill you for once," Ludwig called.

"It's called flexibility, and it's a useful skill!" He shot back. He heard a buzz on his nightstand, the blue phone screen illuminating the lampshade. Elizabeta was calling him. He thought it strange that it was her and not Roderich, but he answered the phone without a second thought.

"Hey," he said.

She wasted no time with pleasantries. "Gilbert, I'm sorry for how I acted earlier today. I am quite stressed."

"Oh, it's okay. No worries. I know you guys are busy…"

"No, it's not that," she sighed deeply, her breath heavy in the phone's speaker.

Gilbert's stomach became heavy with anxiety. Something wasn't right, and he was afraid to hear what she was planning to say. "What's wrong?"

She sighed, and took a minute. "Roderich's grandmother had a heart attack last night."

"Holy shit," Gilbert said, shoving his laptop off of his legs. "I'm… sorry…" He was never quite sure of what to say to react to news like that. "Is… is Roderich okay?"

She hummed a low pitch. "That's just it. He is acting normal."

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "…where are you?"

"We're on the train back to Vienna. I had to wait until Roderich fell asleep to call you."

"Oh… why?"

"Roderich is bottling things up right now, he is in serious denial. This isn't her first heart attack, and she hurt herself falling. He doesn't want to deal with it, which is why he wanted to stay and socialize this morning." With each sentence her tone grew more and more stressed; she pulled at words like melted cheese.

Gilbert wasn't really sure what to say. His head was usually filled with words, comments, ideas. But now there was nothing… except for the image of Roderich asleep on the train. He felt sympathetic, though. Dealing with an elderly loved one wasn't his favorite past time, and he wasn't sure of the circumstances around the death of Roderich's parents, so maybe he had never dealt with it. He also knew nothing about his relationship with his grandmother. Too many things were unclear to him, but he did feel some sort of want to comfort Roderich. "What will you do when you get back?"

"I'm getting the two of us a cab and driving directly to the hospital where she's staying. He needs to deal with this."

Gilbert paused. "…is it okay to ask why he doesn't want to?"

She groaned. "He has a very weird relationship with his grandmother. But I know he's going to bottle all of this up if he doesn't deal with it, and that he is going to stop functioning emotionally."

For being his ex-wife, she seemed to care about him more than she did anyone else. Gilbert was almost a little jealous that she was so involved in his life. And as much as he hated thinking such selfish thoughts, he was exasperated that the day he had finally gotten Roderich to open up to him, something traumatic had to happen.

"Well, when he wakes up, tell him he can call me if he wants to… talk about things." That sounded so juvenile, he thought. But he wanted Roderich to trust him, even with heavier things that they hadn't yet talked about.

"...actually, give me a minute, I think he's awake…" she said, sounding almost disappointed. There was rustling for a moment, and then her voice sounded further away. "It's Gilbert, do you want to talk to him? … I just told him thanks for having us over…"

Another moment of rustling before Roderich's voice spoke, much deeper than Gilbert had ever heard it. "Hello, Gilbert."

"Hey, _Wienerblut_ , how are you?"

"I'm fine, just a bit tired. And you?" He seemed… so casual. It seemed like all of the anxiety he should be experiencing was simply handed off to Elizabeta.

"Pretty good, just enjoying a lazy Sunday."

"That sounds relaxing," he paused for a moment. "Thank you again for coming to the show."

Gilbert grinned. This was the millionth time he'd said it. "Thank you for inviting me, I really had a great time!"

"Would you and your brother like to come to Vienna for Christmas?"

"What?" That had come from nowhere. "Um… I can't speak for Ludwig, but I think it would be fun."

"I would love to have one or both of you visit. The Vienna Philharmonic is performing one of my favorite symphonies on the 22nd, and if you are interested I could purchase tickets…"

Gilbert laughed to himself, finding Roderich's new giddiness amusing if not endearing. "That sounds fun, let's do it. I'll ask Ludwig…" he put his hand over the bottom half of his phone and turned his head to face the door. "Ludwig!"

" _Ja_?"

"Want to go to Vienna for Christmas?"

After a few moments of silence. "I don't see why not. You're in charge of planning."

He uncovered his phone and spoke. "We'll be there."

The warmth of Roderich's smile was tangible over the phone. "Wonderful. I can't wait. When should I expect you?"

"I think Lud's break starts on the 20th… so I guess that day works."

"I will plan accordingly, then."

"Great…" Gilbert said, trailing off. He felt like he needed to say something else, about his previous conversation with Elizabeta. "Hey, uh, Roderich?"

"…yes?"

"I… uh… you can talk to me about… anything." He felt stupid, tripping over his words. But it needed to be said, so he said it.

"…Thank you, Gilbert." He said quietly. "I appreciate it."

Apparently, he wasn't upset that Elizabeta had told Gilbert of his grandmother's illness, or he had accepted his statement point-blank. The first implied that Elizabeta was the designated messenger between them, which made Gilbert uncomfortable. He didn't want there to be a middleman between him and Roderich – they were in a relationship and needed to trust each other directly. If he had accepted the statement point-blank, he hoped that he would apply it to the situation at hand.

"Well, get back to sleep. You've had a long few weeks, you deserve a nap."

Roderich exhaled into the phone and waited a moment. "Could I call you tomorrow?"

"…sure. I'm free in the evening."

"I will call you then. Thank you, Gilbert. Have a good night."

"You too." He said. " _Tschüss."_

 _"…_ _Tschüss."_ _And then a click._


End file.
